


Shaken

by wisher93



Category: FBI (TV 2018)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17353973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisher93/pseuds/wisher93
Summary: The Vickers family has been stopped, and the Zetas do not have the Javelins. With the Zetas angry about the botched deal, they seek revenge. The Zetas will do whatever it takes to get what they want, and it's hard to stop those you can't find. The whole team may be in danger, but OA won't let up after Maggie is targeted first.





	1. *sneak*

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after "The Armorer's Faith." I want to keep things pretty accurate character wise, but will need to move beyond what we've seen so far in the limited number of episodes in order for this story to go where I want it to. Be kind, but honest, and let me know if there is something that seems completely unbelievable. Also, feel free to ask questions if you feel like I've missed something. I love feedback. I hope you enjoy!

I couldn't help but sign in relief. Despite the incredible challenge and unlikelihood of success, OA was standing in front of me, breathing. Of course, I knew he could do it, knew he could stop Ari and Martin Vickers. I didn't doubt him, and I was be there to help if things went awry. But still, it's always a relief to have your partner home.

Even with Quinn safely in the hospital and stable, and the team back at the JOC, it is easy to see we still have a lot of work ahead of us. The Zetas have just tried to get their hands on those Javelins. There is no way they would simply shrink back into their hole and lay off the black market power weapons. They have a plan and we need to stop them. Even so Dana sends us home with the promise of free drinks and a solid three days of rest. I can't lie, it feels good. Great, even.

If I'm honest, I'm slightly bummed OA isn't coming with us to McSoreley's, though I'm not all that surprised. When he says he has an errand to run it's not hard to figure out he's going to see Quinn. There is still a lot of unresolved anger and bitterness there. I hope they take this chance to get past it all. OA deserves answers, the truth. He's an exceptional agent, and from the sound of things, has been the whole time.

When I get to McSoreley's, I find Kristen, have a few drinks, and call it a night. I'm exhausted, not having slept well the last few nights with the critical work and worry about the case. I'm sure I'll sleep a solid 12 hours, an unusual occurrence for me, and I'm grateful again to Dana for the opportunity.

I flag a taxi as I make my way through the door when a hard mass slams into my shoulder, setting me off balance and knocking my phone from my hand and my bag from my opposite shoulder. I realize it's a man when he bends down to grab my phone and he hands it out to me.

"Sorry," he says sweetly, a kind smile on his face as he releases the phone into my hand.

I instantly relax, give him a careful smile, and stand up, bag in hand.

"Thanks," I respond, already heading again toward the cab.

As I give my address and we pull away from the curb, I briefly see the same man turn around and head back in the direction he originally came from before running into me. 'Strange,' I think momentarily before my thoughts again drift toward the restful sleep coming my way.

* * *

The man gets back into his black sedan and pulls the wallet from his pocket. He's proud of how easily it was for him to pluck it from her purse while she was grabbing her phone from his other hand. Luckily for him, she had obviously had a few drinks and was slightly buzzed. He had been following her for hours since he saw her exit the van outside the hotel where the Vickers' were staying. He saw her take in Ari and had to know what he was dealing with. Was she a threat to the Zetas? He had to know. This information could get him a promotion or at least a good bonus. Two things that would make his life significantly easier. He was willing to do whatever he had to, and maybe even have some fun along the way.


	2. *click*

The light streaming through my window is what ultimately wakes me. Annoying, because when I roll over to check the time it is only 7:02. By the time I had finally fallen asleep last night, I had seen 12:30 come and go, despite how tired I had been.

"Ugh," I sigh pulling the pillow from the other side of my bed over my eyes. Maybe I can get another hour or two if I stay like this. But, the moments pass, turning into minutes, and then 8:00 rolls around. There appears to be no hope at more sleep, so I pull myself out of bed.

Coffee first, then a run. If I'm up, I might as well do something positive. I change out of my pajamas while the coffee is brewing and my senses thank me as I walk back down the hall and smell the delicious dark roast. I can't help but take a small swig immediately and am irritated at my hurry when it burns going down.

I listen to the news as I empty the rest of my mug taking my time. The piece of toast I'm eating feels good on my stomach, and I roll my eyes as I remember thinking last night that a third beer was a good idea. I throw my hair up in a ponytail, grab my apartment key and head out the door, making sure to lock the door behind me.

On my way down the stairs, I put my phone in the pocket of my compression leggings. When I get to the street, I start running toward a nearby park with nice trails.

About a mile in I suddenly realize I feel as though I'm being watched. I slow slightly, just enough that I can casually look around. Upon spotting nothing, I kick it back up a notch and laugh at myself. After another few minutes, I am still getting the uncomfortable feeling of someone staring. I get to the side of the trail and bend down to tie my shoelace as an excuse. I look all around and still see nothing. Not one to ignore my gut, I run another hundred yards or so to where two trails merge and take a short cut back to the park entrance.

When I reach the safety of my apartment, I immediately lock the door behind me, try to convince myself nothing is off, and head to shower to get ready for the day. I start to feel irritated that I let my imagination ruin my run, but quickly remember what we learned in training about trusting our gut. I'm about to step into the steamy shower when my phone rings. I walk back into my bedroom to the nightstand to check it, but it's a blocked number so I ignore it, turn off the ringer (just long enough to shower in peace) and step in, letting the hot water calm my muscles and my mind.

* * *

The man smiles at the sight of this FBI agent, _Maggie_ , nearly squirming as she stops again to tie her shoe. He takes another photo with his camera and takes down a few notes about the time and place. He pulls back farther into the bushes, gathers the rest of his supplies, and heads toward her apartment to continue observing her routine. He is good at what he doesn't do a just waiting for the perfect opportunity. She won't catch him, and this may be the opportunity he was looking for.


	3. *creak*

 

When I am dressed and drying my hair with a towel in my bedroom, I remember I set my phone on silent. I flip it over as I pick it up to look at the screen and frown. I am reminded of the call from the unknown number, but shrug it off even though it's unlikely someone I didn't know would get this number. It's my secure phone from the Bureau. Weird, but not impossible. I'm about to put it back down when another call comes through, but this time OA's number appears on the screen. I involuntarily smile and pick up.

"Maggie? What's up? I was worried." I can actually hear the worry in his voice.

"Why, what do you mean?" I'm not sure what happened, but something obviously did.

"Maggie," he says seriously, "you called me. Eight times. I'm sorry I missed it. I was out grabbing the mail and I stopped to talk to a-."

"No I didn't," I interrupt quickly. "What are you talking about?" A shiver makes its way down my spine and I involuntarily scan the room.

"I'm looking at my caller ID now. It's your number and your name," he says. "Check yours."

But I was already on it, and all the breath from my lungs rushes out, and I let out a strange yelp as I stare at the screen showing I made eight outgoing calls to OA at the same time I was in the shower.

"OA," I manage, my voice shaky and showing my fear. "It wasn't me..." I finally spit out, not even ashamed at how pitiful I sounded. I locked my door. I was here alone. Except, maybe I wasn't. I can hear OA barking orders, can barely hear him telling me to grab my gun, to get out of there, but my mind is spinning. A few seconds later I hear a quiet creaking, a footstep, behind me, and I finally move, spinning to face the sound. Only, I don't make it all the way around before something hard connects with my head, and I crumple to the ground welcoming the black that takes away the pain. As I skip out of consciousness, I hear OA's cries.

"Maggie? Mags?! Maggie!"

And then nothing.

* * *

The man looks down as the crumpled form in front of him and the want is almost too strong to ignore. He reaches down and strokes the side of her face. He then stands up, grabs something from his pocket and gets to work. He knows he has only minutes. Maybe two or three. He lets out a chuckle. That's all he needed.


	4. *whisper*

OA's POV

I don't remember the last time I have been this scared. Sure, I've been concerned, truly worried even, about things. But they've been cases I was working on and lately, my worry was mostly about her or a time when I was with her. Like when she ran toward the Kernick residence after hearing the children cry out, or almost getting blown up by a bomb because of my own stubbornness. But this outshines it all- even being shot at from all sides just the evening before with Quinn.

Even worse, for the first few moments after hearing the fear in her voice as she tells me she didn't make the calls that came from her phone and there is a scuffle on the other end, I hesitate as I soak it all in. I just stand here shouting her name, praying it is just a sick joke, all the while knowing it isn't. But then I spring into action calling 911 as I rush out the door, down the hall, and outside to my car. As I hang up with 911 and speed toward her apartment, I call Jubal to let him know there is a situation, but that I don't have all the info yet. At first he sounds almost irritated as I interrupt whatever it is he's doing on his short, yet needed vacation, though that quickly diminishes into worry as I explain what I know.

His last words to me are, "get her," as if I wasn't shouting that very thing to myself constantly since the call with her. I can't let anything happen to her, not now, not like this, after everything she has done for me.

My car skids to a stop in front of her building and I see sirens flashing, hearing their scream, as a cop car slides around the corner onto her street blocks in front of me. I'm out of the car and up her steps into her building in the blink of an eye, though every second seems to drag on longer than the one before. I climb the staircase to her floor, turn in the direction of her apartment number and run down the hall. The door to her apartment is ajar, and as I push it open, I realize my gun is already in my hand. At first I see nothing unusual, so I head in, gun raised as I walk toward the short hallway at the back of the living room. I don't hear anything, so I quietly call her name, silently beggin her to come around the corner scolding me for coming in uninvited. The door to her bedroom is shut, and for just a moment I squeeze my eyes shut and push away all the terrible images of what could be waiting for me on the other side. I hear heavy footsteps rushing down the hall and know the police are close. I turn the knob and push open the door.

Immediately, I see her laying on the floor facing away from me with blood pooled around her head. She doesn't move and I hear myself shouting her name as I rush to her side and fall to the floor beside her. I'm searching for a pulse, sure I won't find one, but I do. I do. I do. It's there, faint but persistent, and is maybe the most comforting thing I've ever felt. I breathe for what feels like the first time since this started. I push the hair out of her face and hear myself gently whispering her name over and over, afraid anything louder will break her.

"Maggie, Mags, Maggie, can you hear me? Maggie? It's okay, Mags, I'm here. You're safe now, Maggie, just hold on."

I hear another voice and realize a cop is standing just inside the door to her room. He sees me look at him and says, "the EMTs are almost here. They're in the building." Another cop, his partner I assume is standing behind him a bit further back. He's looking around and down the hallway back toward the living room, obviously not quite sure what to do.

I only nod as I look her over for more injuries other than her head. Her shirt is unbuttoned more than usual, and I would have maybe even blushed (she would have, too, knowing she was being seen with her shirt clearly revealing part of her bra) had I not been so overcome with immediate anger at what I saw. There, written on her chest in what looked like permanent marker, was one word: MINE. My hands clenched together and I felt a guttural growl in my throat as I thought of the person who had written that on her like she was someone's belonging. But Maggie doesn't belong to anyone. My anger would have only grown, except for the small moan that escaped from Maggie's lips. My eyes returned to her face and my hand brushed her forehead again.

The paramedics enter the room and come over to her promptly, getting to work, pushing me away quickly. She groans again, and her eyes flutter open revealing instant panic. She thrashes for only for a moment before my hand has hears, and I am by her head whispering to her to calm her down.

"I'm here, Maggie, you're fine now. Relax and let them take care of you." She instantly stills and closes her eyes grimacing in pain as one paramedic touches her head.

"She needs to go the hospital right away," one paramedic says. They move her swiftly onto a stretcher and have her out the door. I stay with her, riding in the ambulance and only leaving when I'm stopped at the ER by a nurse, who under other circumstances, I may consider nice. But I am annoyed I'm not allowed back there yet. Maggie seems extremely out of it, and after getting into the ambulance she once again had fallen unconscious.

I just want to see her, to make sure she was truly okay. Who knew what else had happened in that apartment before I arrived. Anything could have happened. I shuddered hard at the thought.

This nurse gives me another sympathetic look as she touches my shoulder and says, "I'll show you to a waiting room. The doctor will find you when he's done."

As I sit down in one of the hard, uncomfortable chairs, I slide my phone out of my pocket and call Jubal again to update him. I tell him that I found her, that she is, indeed, alive. I tell him she was in the hospital and being taken care of by a doctor, though I didn't know any details. I didn't mention the word scrawled on her chest, not yet, not before she herself knows.

"Good job," Jubal says simply before hanging up with the promise of updating the team and getting them together to start trying to figure out what had happened. I had mentioned the Zetas, wondering if they could somehow be involved after we thwarted their plan to purchase the Javelin weapons the night before, though it was all speculation at this point. But, it was possible that one had escaped capture and had run away to tell the gang, or that someone watching from afar had seen it all go down and had followed them.

I started to think again how someone had been in Maggie's apartment, that someone had snuck in like that and had invaded the space where she was supposed to be safe. It wasn't right, not at all. I feel my palms get sweaty and my hands begin to clench in frustration and anger. I am getting all worked up again with nothing to go on, which I know isn't helpful to anyone- least of all, Maggie. Just as I start to stand to pace, a doctor comes through the door and says her name.

I'm up and across the floor in seconds asking how she's doing. "She'll be fine," is all he says before pausing to look at me for a moment. That's when I realize I must look like hell, with blood on my clothes and hands, looking disheveled and out of sorts. I open my mouth to ask for more when he interrupts.

"Come with me. She's asking for you." He leads me back through the doors down a hallway to a curtained off area. He slides open the curtain just enough for me to get through and closes it again behind me. A force that feels like gravity pulls me to her, and I realize she is sleeping again as I reach her side. I hear the machine monitoring her heartbeat and see her chest rise and fall with each breath. That's when I finally allow myself to believe she really will be fine. That's when I takes what feels like my second breath since it started. I take one of her small hands in mine and realize that, though I did this earlier today when I found her on her floor to calm her, I've never held it before that. I shouldn't, and I know it, but I keep it in mine as I sit in a chair next to her bed. I rest my other elbow on the arm of the chair and my head in my hand. It suddenly hits me how tired I am. My eyes close and I feel myself drift off smiling slightly at how good it feels to have her hand in mine.

* * *

The man watches from across the street as the FBI agent on a stretcher is loaded into the ambulance. The other one follows closely behind looking like he's falling apart. He smiles. It's so easy to mess with them. He took great joy seeing the other detective rush in to her apartment when he first arrived and loved hearing him call her name as he ran inside. This was going to be all too easy, and all to epic. The Zetas would be pleased.


	5. *gasp*

I feel slight pressure around my left hand which brings me slightly back toward reality. The pain covering my body is nearly overwhelming, and I am reminded of the doctors words as he told me about each wound I had sustained. I had only been conscious for a few moments that first time, but it was long enough to hear the list. The antiseptic smell of hospitals is enough to make me sick, and the noise of hospitals sends me back to a time I don't want to remember as I first became a widow.

The pressure around my hand changes slightly, and I slowly turn my head and open my eyes. I'm forced to squint against the harsh rays of light coming in through the window. I realize the pressure I feel is OA holding my hand. I curl my fingers gingerly around his hand, but it's too much. He opens his eyes, pulls his hand away looking almost awkward, and sets it in his lap.

He smiles. "How ya feeling?"

His voice is soft and contains rarely seen emotion. I smile back and realize how dry my mouth is. I attempt to clear my throat to ask for a cup, but he has read my mind and grabs a cool glass of water from the table next to my bed and hands it to me. I grab the glass with thanks, and take a long swig but nearly choke as I swallow.

"Careful," he says warning me, "you already have bruises forming around your throat. It looks like your attacker tried to choke you. It might be hard to drink."

I flinch at the word attacker and don't like that the word is associated to me and how I am now sitting in a hospital. He notices, of course, and his forehead creases slightly as he continues.

"I don't really know what else happened, other than you have a bad gash on your head. The doctor won't tell me anything because I'm not technically family." He shrugs his shoulders as if he doesn't understand the problem.

"Technically?" I choke out attempting, but failing, to tease.

He smiles at me briefly before telling me that the whole team is back to work looking for evidence, clues as to what happened and why.

He looks at me with question written in his eyes, and I know he wants me to tell him what happened, but not sure if he should ask yet. I hesitate, but just for a moment. What am I really worried about? He already knows I have been attacked. Hell, he had found me. I don't really have anything to hide.

"Well," I start, my voice rough, "when I was on the phone with you and realized the calls you received had come from my phone, I panicked. Instead of acting, I froze," I look down momentarily, full of embarrassment at being a FBI agent and still failing to keep myself safe. I shrug my shoulders and my eyes return to his.

"Mags," he says as he scoots his chair a little closer and puts a hand gently on my arm below the elbow. "Don't. Don't do that. It's not your fault and you know it. Your home is where you should safest. Anyone could react like that no matter the training they have."

He sounds sympathetic, yet honest, and I can't help but let it squish my doubts. I nod quickly and continue.

"I heard him take a step and swung around, but it was too late. His swing was powerful and fast, hitting me on the side of the head with something heavy, though I'm not sure what. I hit the ground hard. I could hear you on the phone, but then I passed out for a minute. I woke up briefly to a huge kick to the ribs which, by the way, caused a broken rib and a couple bad bruises. He then put his hands around my neck and started to choke me. I blacked out again and didn't come to until you were beside me..." I drift off aware he knows more about what happened next than I do.

"Do you remember anything else after that?" He asks pointedly.

I shake my head, "Not really. The worst part was the look on his face when he was strangling me. He just kept smiling, his eyes evil." There is a silence that deepens as he considers what I say. I watch him carefully knowing there is something more he wants to say.

"Maggie," He starts, pulling his chair a little closer once again, "this guy who attacked you, I think it was all a game to him." He pauses.

"What?" I ask confused.

"Well, when I first found you, I saw your gash on your head, but I wanted to check for other injuries. Your shirt was open a little, and I saw something."

I reach for the top of the hospital gown I'm wearing before I know what I'm doing, but he grabs my hand carefully and holds it where it is.

"Listen, that guy, that son-of-a..." his voice grew loud and sharp so he stops for just a moment to collect himself. "He wrote something on your chest."

His eyes are full of what looks like both pain and anger. I reach for my gown again with my other hand, and he releases the hand he was holding. I pull the gown away just enough for me to see the word written there. I feel my eyes go big and hear my gasp. Tears fill my eyes, though I refuse to let them fall. Blinking hard, I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Maggie. I wish I would have gotten there sooner. When I saw you on the floor, I was sure I was too late. Then I saw that, and I was so angry, but I am just so relieved you are ok. The paramedics arrived shortly after me and brought you here. I didn't tell Jubal about the writing because I wanted to make sure you knew before he and the rest of the team did," he looks truly sorry and I'm not sure why, not sure what he feels responsible for. There is nothing more he could have done. "I should tell them now, though," he adds.

Before I could stop it, I blurt, "thank you."

"Of course, Maggie. I'm really am just glad you're okay. Anything you need, I'm here for you. And, we'll get this guy. Really."

His sincerity and both of our openness throughout the whole conversation is surprising to me, and to him also, I think. I just nod and try my best, yet fail, to cover the grimace at the pain from the simple movement.

"I'm going to get a nurse," OA says quickly. "To help with the pain."

He was gone before I could respond, and I am glad. I am actually in a lot of pain, more than I would ever admit, and am completely exhausted. A nurse returns with OA right behind her. She uses a syringe to add some pain meds to my IV. She asks me a few questions and then leaves.

"Are you-?" I start to ask but he starts talking at the same time.

"I'm going to stay here with you for now, if that's okay?"

I smile, my eyes already heavy, and I'm fighting sleep. All I can do is nod before I'm back to a deep and empty sleep.

* * *

It was easier than expected getting into the male agent's home. He didn't even lock the door behind him in his hurry to chase after his partner, so I just go right in. I learn his name, Omar Adom Zidan. I dig through some things trying to learn more about him, figure out what will get him, but there's not much to find. He had few pictures, and his apartment is pretty plain. I do know one thing: Maggie sure means a lot to him. That will help. I need to figure out a plan, a means to an end. The longer I'm there, seeing his life, the more my plan falls into place. But first, I'm going to need some help.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard. I hope I kept them in character enough to be realistic with what we've seen so far of the show, but leave it open for further development of their partnership at the same time. I hope that makes sense... also, it's hard to write Maggie as a victim because she is so strong, yet has a very compassionate and emotional side to her. Please let me know what you think!


	6. *ring, ring*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parts after the break in each chapter are switching to first person to help them make more sense, but is from the POV of the same man. I hope that makes sense.   
> **Also, warning for anxiety/panic attack.

I wake again, and it's dark. The lights from the machines I'm hooked up to provide enough light that I can see OA asleep again in the chair, though this time, it's pushed farther back from my bed. The analog clock on the wall tells me it's just passed 10 pm. I can't help but wonder what the team has discovered about what happened to me and why.

I must have gotten lost in thought because a nurse comes in to check my vitals and pain level, and I'm surprised to see fifteen minutes have passed in what feels like seconds. I see OA shift in the chair, and, knowing he isn't one for small talk, will 'wake up' once the nurse leaves. She gives me something to lessen the pain, says she will be back in a few hours, and tells me to get some rest. Normally they never would have allowed OA to stay, but I 'need' protection with this guy still out there, and when I argued, OA said he would stay instead of having someone else come. I had felt guilty when he offered, but one look was all I needed to know he preferred it. When I asked him later, he just shrugged. "At least this way I know you'll be safe instead of trusting someone else to do it." The matter of fact nature to the statement had made me smile.

As the nurse walks out the door, OA sits up, and I laugh to myself that he is already so predictable to me, that I know him that well.

"How you feeling?" he asks quietly.

"Better now that the meds are kicking in," I sigh looking at him.

"Well, I have some pictures for you to look at if you don't mind. I know things are still a little foggy from the attack, but Kristen sent a bunch of pictures she found from security cameras in the area a couple hours ago. I'm hoping one of them will be familiar..." he looks at me hopefully.

"OA, I know what the guy looks like. I won't forget. No matter how hard I hit my head, I won't forget his face," I said forcefully, and I was surprised by how defensive I sounded. Apparently it surprised OA, too, but he recovered quickly saying, "I'm not questioning your ability, Maggie. I'm just trying not to force you into anything too quickly. Honestly, I'm not really sure how to act or what to expect. I don't want to make anything harder for you. At the same time, I know you don't want me to treat you like you can't handle this. We all know you can, _I_ know you can," he pauses for a moment. "Now you are looking at me like I'm crazy." He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips at my expression.

"I just don't think I've ever heard you say so much in such a short period of time. That was like three hours worth of conversation from you," I tease with a gentle laugh. It gets the attention back off me and, even though I'm more than comfortable with him, I don't really know how I will react or what to expect.

He lets out a laugh, too, and I'm glad. He hasn't done much laughing or even smiling for that matter.

"Really, though," I continue with a sigh, "I know you are trying. You're still here, and I am thankful for that. You have been great, OA, and I probably owe you my life. So, thanks. Thanks for, well, everything. And, I'm sorry for snapping." My eyes flick toward him for a minute as I shrug, and he is just staring at me, listening. But when I finish, a small smile spreads across his face.

"What?!" I ask perplexed.

"Now who won't shut up?" he jokes.

He's lucky I don't have anything within reach because I would be throwing it at him in faux annoyance, and I tell him so with a dramatic roll of my eyes. This is one of the reasons why I am so thankful he stayed. He makes things seem normal even when I'm laying in a hospital bed and he's stuck here guarding me.

I remember the task at hand and my smile fades. I hold out my hand and look at the decent stack of papers sitting upside down on the small table near OA. With a sigh, he grabs them, hand them to me and then picks up his chair to move beside me so he can watch me while I look at the people, the faces in the pictures.

Each page has four pictures on it, and there is roughly 25-30 pages. As I reach page page 12, I start to wonder if he's here, wonder if I really will recognize him. The thoughts start to build, and I begin shuffling through them faster, missing some or moving fast which causing me to have to backtrack. My breathing becomes shallow, and I can't get a deep breath even when I try. My heart is pounding and I'm sweating. This happens in less than a minute and I realize I'm panicking. I close my eyes gasping for breath, and I feel OA take the pages from me and grab my hand in his. I don't know what's happening, but the monitors start to beep which makes things worse. I feel tears forming at the corner of my still closed eyes as OA starts to speak.

His voice is calm and warm, inviting me in to what he's saying. "Maggie, take a deep breath. You are okay. You are safe. You are having a panic attack, but it's okay. You're okay. C'mon, Mags. Breathe with me."

A nurse rushes into the room in the middle of his words, but he breaks his sentence for a minute to quickly say something which gets her to step back. I can't make my brain hear what he says. I can't make anything out at first, but slowly the things he says begin to form words and the words into sentences that my brain can make sense of. My chest is still tight and my heart beating too fast, but I can breathe again. I'm suddenly more exhausted that I can comprehend. I lean back so I'm resting against my bed which is halfway into a sitting position realizing with a painful breath that I had curled myself into a ball with my knees close to my chest. Despite the intense pain from that position, I focus on his hand and his breathing to normalize my own, and, as his murmurs quiet, he whispers, "rest."

With that, I'm out. The embarrassment and doubt delicately balanced on the edge of the darkness that had pulled me under, preventing me from a completely restful sleep.

* * *

It wasn't hard to find out where Maggie was staying. Just a few calls to the hospitals in the area. I make one more phone call to Gorge, hearing the familiar ring, ring as I wait for him to answer. When he does, I tell him it's time to initiate the first part of the plan.


	7. *hum*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First minor swearing. Enjoy! This is my favorite chapter so far. Thanks so much for your comments and kudos!

I'm out for more than 12 hours, though I feel almost as tired as I was when I fell asleep in the first place. I do my best to fall back into the safety of sleep, knowing that OA is probably waiting for me to wake up so we can talk about what happened. I want to be surprised that he would be the one trying to get me to talk, but instead I'm annoyed at myself. A panic attack? Really? First I'm attacked, then my partner has to guard me, and now I can't even get a handle on my mental health? Great. Embarrassment overwhelms me, and I know the heat rushing to my cheeks, turning them bright red, gives me away.

"Morning," he says quietly before I even open my eyes. I roll my eyes (still closed by the way- impressive, right?) and let out a long sigh.

"Yes, it is," I retort.

"Mags, look—," he starts, but I interrupt.

"Don't, okay?" I finally open my eyes and stare right into his for only a moment before looking out the window and then down at my hands.

He just waits, patient, as I study the IV in the back of my hand.

I'm almost annoyed that he is still waiting for me to speak, because he is just too damn good to me and I'm not sure I deserve it. Just when I think I can't take the silence anymore, I find that there are words pouring out of my mouth without intention.

"I'm just embarrassed. Embarrassed it happened, embarrassed you saw it. This isn't the first time something has happened to me, but it's the first time it's affecting me like this. I hate that I'm letting this get to me so much." I'm sudden silent and am getting internal whiplash at the starting and stopping of my words.

"The fact that you are embarrassed is completely unnecessary. What happened isn't something you can control, and I know you know that. It happens to everyone, Maggie," he says matter of fact.

I scoff as I finally look at him again. "You?" I ask, resentment in my voice as I'm sure he wasn't grouping himself in with 'everyone.'

His eyebrows just raise slightly with a knowing look, a small smile playing on the corners of his lips. My brows furrow in response. "I don't believe you."

"Well, whether you believe me or not doesn't change that it's happened. And, actually, they were much worse than yours." He's opening up again, and it still feels weird, feels too important to be something I claim I don't believe, but I can't help myself.

"They? More than one?" I can't quite hide the shock in my voice.

He briefly smiles again, but it's gone all too soon. "Yes. So when I say you shouldn't be embarrassed, I mean it. Especially in front of me." He squeezes my hand gently before letting go. I hadn't even realized he had still been holding it, but I immediately miss its warmth and comfort. "And," he continues quietly, "while I'm sure I would have been mortified if anyone had been there to see, in the moment it's all I wanted. Someone to be there, to make things seem less permanent. Don't be embarrassed, Mags."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know," I barely whisper. It's all I can get out, but it's sincere, and he accepts it graciously, excusing my behavior.

"Any chance I can see them again?" I ask, referring to the pictures.

"I should probably say no, but I don't think I wanna tempt you throwing something at me," he laughs referring to my comments from the night before. He's trying to lighten the mood, and it works. I stick my tongue out at him, not sure what else to do. He comes back over like he had last night, but before he hands over the pictures he gets serious again.

"The second you start to feel anything," he begins, "let me know right away, okay?" He's waiting for a response, but I just try to grab the pictures from him, cringing slightly at the pain from the quick movement. "Maggie," he scolds gently, waiting for an answer. I just look at him, one eyebrow raised slightly higher than the other. When he doesn't give in, I sigh. "Fine."

He hands them over clearly questioning his decision. But I look at the remaining pages with a sense of ease. Only once does my breathing quicken and chest tighten. I didn't even realize I gasped loudly. He notices the change immediately and calls my name.

"Maggie?"

"Here," I whisper pointing to one of the pictures, but it's barely audible.

"That's him?" He asks me as he stands from his chair to grab his phone from his pocket.

"How did I miss it?" I ask myself. "I don't understand."

He stops, phone in hand, obviously mid dial. He comes close and looks at the picture again. "What?"

"I saw him. That night at the bar. He was there, outside. He ran into me and I dropped my things..." my finger slides down the picture as I am enveloped in the memory of coming out of the bar.

"Ok, Mags, nice job. I'm calling Jubal now," he says as he walks to the hall. I hear him start talking to Jubal, explaining what I told him. His voice is quiet and hearing him still close to the door calms my questions of being in danger. His words become a quiet hum, and I lay back against the bed, trying not to doubt myself too much as I begin to drift off. The meds must be doing their job because I can't stay awake for anything...

BREAK~ (Gorge's POV)

This is just the opportunity I need. I received a phone call from another Zeta probate, Andy, earlier today telling me of a new target- who she was and where she was staying. I have another friend who is also a probate and wants in desperately. Our lives depend on it, so it doesn't take long to convince him to help. We have been sitting in a chair in corner at the end of the hall to her room waiting for her partner to leave. He walks out of her room and leans against the wall while. He's on the phone, and I know I have to make my move quickly.

I call Andy and tell him to light the fire crackers and get here immediately. I hang up, look at my other partner, Jose, and we wait for the signal. My hand is under my shirt, grazing the barrel of my gun. It won't be long now.


	8. *bang, bang*

OA's POV~

As I'm talking to Jubal on the phone, I lean against the wall outside the door to Maggie's room hoping she can get some more sleep. I'm about to hang up when I'm startled as loud popping begins. Thinking it may be a shooter, and probably somehow connected to Maggie, I hang up the phone, draw my gun and take off down the hall toward the sound. The screaming from those close by has stopped though some people, both nurses and patients, are still on the floor taking cover and a few are crying. I go to a nurse who has her hands on the head of an elder woman to stop bleeding and crouch down.

"She's fine," the nurse whispers to me as I show her my badge. "She just slipped and fell at the loud noise and hit her head on the counter."

I stand again, gun raised, and continue toward the source of the sound. When I see the metal bin with smoke rising, I get a sinking feeling in my gut. I look inside and am suddenly enraged. Firecrackers?! It was all a joke! People were hurt and for what? A prank?

Suddenly my eyes go wide as I realize this wasn't a prank at all, but rather a diversion. A diversion for Maggie. I am already running back toward her room, shouting her name, hoping, praying even, for a response. As I turn into her room I hear a short, pathetic cry come from my lips when I see her bed is empty and she is nowhere to be found. Her IV had been ripped out which left a small blood stain on her bed. She is in no condition to go anywhere alone, which leaves only one option. Someone had to move her. I am back into the hall going the opposite direction from the way I had just come. I scan every room quickly, every corner, every hall. I don't see anything suspicious until I take the stairs to the next floor. There in the stairwell is a nurse, unconscious and crumpled to the ground. I feel for a pulse and am thankful to find one, hoping he can help provide information.

I shout for help and move on knowing I'm going in the right direction as a young doctor coming up from the floor below hears my cries and comes to help.

I go all the way down the stairs to the lobby not finding anything else to help, no clues or evidence Maggie's been here. My panic is only building as I continue to search for my partner and her captor. I pull my phone from my waist and dial Dana. I need help, and I need it now.

I fill her in quickly though I'm surprised she can understand the jumbled mess of words that come out of my mouth. I don't really understand what she says to me as my mind races a mile a minute, but when she tells me to come in, I agree.

I feel useless, helpless and can't help the guilt that fills every part of my body as I think about how I let Maggie down. I was there solely as her protector, to keep her safe, and I failed her. Who knew where she was at this moment, and to think she's elsewhere while so injured. Now anything could happen. She could even be dead.

The guilt I feel continues to grow the entire drive. As I pull into a space in the JOC parking lot, I throw open the door, and empty the contents of my stomach on the ground, the shame too much to fight off. As I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, I stand and head inside. My mind is still racing as I face the whole crew. Anyone and everyone is here on the case, and they are all staring at me waiting for me to give them the details, the rundown of how I let Maggie down.

I feel tears threaten my vision, but I don't dare let them fall. Jubal sees the state I'm in and pulls me into Dana's office. She follows. I'm grateful for this chance at privacy. Here a few tears fall freely, and I turn and walk to the window so they don't see.

Dana is the first to break the silence and I answer every question, my heart breaking a little more with each response until I feel absolutely nothing at all. Nothing. I'm Numb. But that's even worse because now I don't know if I can help.

BREAK~

I met up with Jose and Andy who have the agent. I pull the car to a stop so they can get her in quickly, and I get out to help. They push her inside and then climb in quickly. Jose drives and Gorge is in the passenger seat while I sit in the back with her. She gives in to the blindfolded easily after I hold a gun to her head, and she doesn't bother fighting when I tape her mouth shut with duct tape. I bind her hands and ankles though I'm not worried of her escaping. She is still far too week, and I am thrilled at how easy this was, how things had gone according to plan so perfectly. It was a rush, and I am sure I can't be stopped. I would get everything I wanted. Everything. And have fun while I wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the feedback. Keep it coming!


	9. *screech*

Maggie's POV of the last chapter~

I hear a popping sound that wakes me from sleep. I look for OA, but he isn't here, and I figure he went after the shooter. He's right to do so as it's probably connected to me, but I feel weak and vulnerable here alone. I do my best to shake the doubt. The doctor comes through the door, and I look up to ask what is happening but am shocked to see two armed men, guns pointing, charging to my side.

I have no option but to submit to their demands. One returns to the door and the other pulls the IV from my body. I cringe but do my best not to show any signs of weakness- a hard feat when every movement is excruciating. I do my best to take in every detail, every word to store away for later knowing I might need it. This time I won't go down without a fight.

The two men shove me to my feet and don't even allow me to slip on my shoes before they are pulling me along out the door and down the hall. At least they are supporting most of my weight which helps the pain I feel. I keep expecting OA to be around each corner or behind every door we take, but he never is. I silently beg and plead him to be there, to catch me before I'm gone, though I know it's very possible he won't. But I cling to hope knowing I'll need it wherever they take me.

On our way down the stairs we meet a nurse. He has kind eyes and asks what I am doing out of bed. I haven't seen him before, but he knows something is wrong. After all, I'm being rushed down the stairs barefoot and in my gown clearly in pain. When we shove passed, he tries to follow getting loud in the process about the need of getting me back into bed. One of my captors turns and smashes his gun down on the man's head. I let out a muffled cry as he collapses to the floor.

We get to the entrance of the hospital and one of the men says, "scream, and I'll shoot someone in the head." I don't dare make a sound, dont even think about doing anything to draw more attention to us than we already have.

A car pulls up, and I begin to fight the two who have a hold on me when I see the man who has plagued my sleep for the last three days in the driver's seat. I know I should have expected to see him, but the fast paced, painful trip has limited time to dwell on possibilities. I'm not sure how to cope. This is the man who feels he had the right to claim me as his own after he attacked me. I silently send a thought of thanks to OA as I remember him bringing in a bottle of rubbing alcohol to remove the word from my skin.

OA. I wonder what he's doing now, wonder if he is still searching for me in the hospital. Does he realize I'm gone? Surely he must. I hope he knows this isn't his fault, that none of this is on him, though I'm sure he blames no one but himself.

I am pushed into the car in the back and the driver of the car gets out to sit in back with me. I'm instantly terrified but do my best not to show it. As the car begins to move my original captor pulls out a gun and uses it to get me to comply as he blindfolds me and tapes my mouth. Now not only am I being taken again by the man who humiliated and gravely injured me, but now I'm blind to what is happening. He ties my wrist and ankles, too. I feel painc begin to set in, but I have to stop it, I have to remain calm. If I don't, I could hyperventilate and, without my mouth to breathe, I could die. I do the only thing I can think of to calm down: I think of my partner, the man who will do whatever it takes to save me. I know he will. And until he does, I will search for a way out myself.

My thoughts take me back to my hospital bed when I first woke up and when I first felt his hand in mine. I miss that touch, crave it even more as I sit here petrified. I think of his his touch, his laugh, his teasing remarks. I am reminded of my leather jacket he made fun of. My breathing is calm, my heart rate at a much more acceptable level. Only OA can keep me this calm in the midst of this situation when he's not even here. I don't know what I would do without him.

My thoughts are interrupted when the car comes to a screeching stop. I fly forward and slam into the back of the driver's seat. I hear laughter from the man next to me and he growls in my ear. "We're here princess. Let's have some fun."

A shiver runs through me at his words, and as hard as I try to remain calm, I'm struggling to do so. I hear them get out of the car and hands grab at my arm to pull me to my feet. The action pulls on my shoulder which is bruised from my initial beating and at my wrists behind my back. My ribs scream in agony and my legs protest as I'm forced to walk what I guess to be about 100 yards. The path is rocky and I stumble for than once.

I hear a door open and I am again pulled inside. I walk into a corner of a doorway and grimace. Another door opens and I am pulled down some stairs into a damp basement. The blindfold is ripped off along with some strands of my hair that were caught in the knot. I let out a small gasp. Before I can say anything, they are gone. The door is slammed behind them, and a lock is turned.

The room is very dark, no windows or light. I take in what I can. The room is small, about the size of the bedroom in my small apartment. There are shelves lining one side like it was once a cellar storing canned food. Along the other is a small cot on the hard, cement ground. My feet are already freezing against the cold floor and the rest of my body is shivering. I slowly make my way to the cot and sit down, letting out a quiet moan as I do. I think about how I can get myself out of here, but with no window, a locked door, no light, and little to no materials in the room, there is not much I can do. Not much to do but wait.

BREAK~

I am still in disbelief at how well the plan has worked so far. The next steps are easy. I just need to get the weapons from the male agent. I know he'll do it. It's clear he would do anything to keep her safe. And if he resisted? How fun it would be to make him pay. I hope to have an excuse to torture his little bitch in the basement. Maybe I will regardless of cooperation. I can't help but laugh at the thought. For now, I'll let them both sweat it out. Let them worry, panic, image the worst possible scenario. And just when they think they will be okay, I'll really let them have it. There's no escape now.


	10. *steps*

I startle awake from the terrible dream I'm having only to realize the dream and reality are one and the same. I really am locked in a cold basement. Alone. Scared. Injured. I have no way of passing the time, and it already feels like I've been here forever. I'm not sure how long it was before my body succumbed to exhaustion last night, or even if it was last night when I finally fell asleep. I didn't even realize I had fallen asleep until I woke up, and I don't think I slept long because I'm just as exhausted. I hear movement upstairs, and I start to panic slightly when I realize what I hear is someone coming down the steps. I put on a mask in hopes of hiding my fear and hope I do it well.

The door creaks as it opens and my captor's eyes almost glow in the dark. Light filters through the open door and it's bright enough I have to squint.

"Maggie, so good to see you again." His voice is dripping with hatred and fury.

"What do you want?" I'm impressed with how steady I sound.

"What do I want?" He laughs. "Easy. You. I want you to get me what I need."

He steps toward me, and I slide back so I'm against the rough wall.

"I can't get you anything here, but if you let me go I'll-," he cuts me off.

"Shut up!" he screams. "I'm not stupid. I don't need you to go anywhere. I need you to persuade your partner to get something for me. It's perfect really."

"He won't get anything for you! Not if you hurt me!" I shout back at him, suddenly angry.

I'm shocked at his mean laughter. I can't help but be puzzled.

"Actually," he starts, "I think he will give me exactly what I want after he knows what I will do to you should he refuse," his says with an evil glare that is enough to give me the creeps, and I can't doubt that his plan would possibly work. OA would do whatever he could to keep me safe, just like I would do for him. Both my captor and I know it. I find myself suddenly extremely thankful, not wanting to imagine or experience the pain he appears to be willing to inflict.

He crouches in front of me and reaches up to graze my cheek with his finger. I turn away from his touch and he slaps me hard in response. I narrow my eyes as I stare at him showing him as best I can I'm ready for a fight.

He grabs my ankle and pulls me off the cot onto the cement. I kick him hard in the arm and feel a moment of satisfaction as he cries out. He drops my ankle and kicks me hard in the stomach. I groan as my already broken and bruised ribs are assaulted. He kicks again and again until I cough up blood and am unable to move. Then he laughs, turns on his heels and is out the door. I can't fight the darkness that takes over as I hear the click of the lock. Again I am alone as I drift off into unconsciousness.

* * *

I can't believe the bitch kicked me like that! Who does she think she is? It will definitely leave a bruise. I am surprised at how much strength she had despite her injuries, but I took care of that real fast. Now that she knows I'm in charge and mean business, it's time to make her partner understand the same thing. I pick up the phone I got from the Zetas. It can't be traced and will help me get what we all want. The Javelins. Soon they will be in the hands of the Zetas all thanks to me. To them, I will be a god. To them, I will be indispensable

I dial the number I got from my source and wait for an answer.

"Agent Zidan. I think we have some things to discuss. Wouldn't you agree?"

The pause on the other end, the inhale of breath, let's me know he knows exactly who I am. Not my name, not what I look like, but he knows what I've done.


	11. *listen*

OA's POV~

I'm still trying to wrap my mind around what has happened, still praying it's all a nightmare when my phone rings. It must ring three or four times before I even hear it as I'm pulled back to what's going on around me. I answer without a word, unable to speak. Shock overwhelms me at what I hear.

"Agent Zidan. I think we have some things to discuss. Wouldn't you agree?"

I gasp a breath at the words knowing exactly who is on the line.

"I'm going to kill you," I finally manage quietly. "I swear to God if you touch her, I'll kill you myself." My voice grows louder as I become angrier, finally feeling something again and the feelings are intense, all encompassing, more than I can bare.

"Are you done?" he asks sounding impatient rather than worried.

I can't respond.

"Are you alone?" he continues, prompting me again.

"Yes," I spit out.

"Good, because here's the deal. If you say anything to anyone, if you have help of any kind, if I even think it's possible you have said something, I will make her life absolutely miserable. She will beg me to end it, and I'll only make it worse. And it will be your fault. Do you understand? I have have eyes and ears everywhere. I have people inside. You can't trust anyone. Do you understand what I am saying, Agent?"

He waits for an answer, and I try to quiet my racing mind so I can tell him what he wants to hear.

"What do you want?" I manage, venom dripping from my words.

He chuckles, a true belly laugh, and I'm getting even more angry. "Why, Agent, dont you know? You have what belongs to us. You have what I need. The Javelins. And you are going to get them to me. You will deliver them intact, in perfect condition."

"How?" I ask incredulously, knowing what he asks is impossible.

"Agent, I wasn't finished. When I get those weapons, I want to make you pay for taking them from us in the first place, for messing with us and ruining our plans. I want to make you suffer in ways you couldn't possibly understand. And then I'm going to kill you." I hear the enjoyment in his voice as he finishes. I feel sick.

"Then why would I help you?" I ask, fearing the answer is my brunette partner I care so much about.

"Because if you don't, Maggie will feel immeasurable pain. She will scream for you to save her and will know it's all your fault when you can't. Then I will kill her while forcing you to watch. And when you have nothing left, when the hope leaves your eyes, I'll kill you, too. But, she doesn't have to die, not if you help me. I have 30 seconds before this call can be traced so listen carefully," he says wasting no time. "There is a secure phone in your locker. I will call you in 24 hours with directions for the Javelins. That's 24 hours to get the Javelins and get them ready to transport. Be ready to deliver. And remember, Agent, tell no one."

With that he hangs up, and I am left, jaw on the floor, as I try to comprehend all that was just said to me. There are Zetas in the building, maybe even on my team. This means I really can't trust anyone, can I? I can't risk Maggie, not for a second no matter what happens to me in the end. I can't let her die, can't let him hurt her. I can't let her think she is alone, that I don't care.

The phone spoken of is, indeed, in my locker which is further proof there are Zetas who have infiltrated the building. But what can I do? I don't have access to those weapons. I need help if I want to help her. I have to ask someone, or I really will fail Maggie. But who can I trust?

I walk back out of the locker room and sit at my desk. I have four hours to figure this out. It's 11:05 so I have until 11:00 tomorrow. I look up to study the people around me trying to decide who to talk to and how to do it. I have to assume I'm under watch and can't risk any chances.

I'm fairly certain I can trust Jubal. He's been here significantly longer than either Maggie or me so chances of him being a spy are minuscule. I would like to think I can trust Dana, but she just started, so I'm not really sure. And Kristen? That would be handy with her skills, but again, I'm not sure. Jubal it is.

Jubal is standing for in front of the white board with the information we have so far- a smattering of photos and other pieces of evidence collected. I know I only have moments if I'm being watched. I walk so I'm standing behind him and without am hesitation whisper, "McSoreley's at 12. Come alone." I'm gone before he can respond, and, God bless him, he doesn't turn around or acknowledge anything happened.

I return to my desk long enough to grab my keys, jacket, gun, and badge, and head for the door.

* * *

I'm staring at my watch in despair. It's 12:17 and Jubal isn't here. Maybe he's a Zeta and has ratted me out. Maybe Maggie's dead. My fists ball up and my breathing quickens. My thoughts are irrational, but I don't know what to do if Jubal doesn't show up. A hand on my shoulder brings me back to reality.

"Jubal, I'm so glad you came," I sigh.

"Sorry I'm late. I got stuck at the office. What do you know about Maggie?" he asked getting right to the point.

"I got a call. A call from the man who kidnapped Maggie," I inform him, taking a deep breath. "He told me I have less than a day to get the Javelins and have them ready to deliver. But I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. You can't tell anyone- even Dana. There's people on the inside. They put this phone in my locker. Who could do that, Jubal? Who?" I'm growing desperate and losing control. We both know it. I hate the way this is messing with me, hate how I'm reacting. I know I need to focus and stay objective.

"OA, I need you to take a deep breath and calm down so we can figure out a plan." He puts his hand on my back momentarily as I will myself to relax.

"Can the call be traced?" he asks.

"No, he knew how long he had before the call was traceable. He's good," I say quietly.

"We need more help if we want this to work. I've known Kristen and Dana for a long time, before either starting in the office. They can help us." He is looking at me, waiting for a response. I hear the sincerity in his voice and know he is right. Some of the fear dissipates and makes me less paranoid. We need the help.

I nod before I speak. "But we can't all meet at the JOC or someone might think I talked. He said if he even thinks I got help, he'll make her suffer." My voice fades to nothing.

"I have an idea," he says. "I'll go get Kristen and Dana. I'll announce to the room that another agency has requested our help with a possible case. In case they found a way to tap your phone, we will call you on mine from Dana's office after Kristen checks to make sure it's secure.

"I'll also make sure to announce that I'm looking for you, but can't find you. That should get rid of any doubt that you are communicating with us." He seems to believe in his plan, and I can't think of anything better. I nod.

"Okay. Let's do it."

He stands to leave, but turns back toward me.

"OA, you need to stay calm. We will get her. You need to believe in us, in yourself." Then he's gone.

* * *

I'm pleased when I hang up the phone. The agent played right into my hands. I scared him enough that he should fall in line nicely. I have twenty four hours to kill. I might as well get acquainted with Maggie. I'm ready for some fun.

I grab a few things I've gathered just for her and turn toward the basement door. My anticipation builds as I take each step closer to her. I open the door and see her asleep on the cot. I prepare the syringe and grab my gun from my waistband. Then I walk to her side and kneel next to her to wake her from her slumber. She fights for only a moment before she realizes my gun is pressed to her forehead. I press one of my knees into her ribs and watch the fight leave her eyes at the pain it causes. Her face goes pale, maybe even slightly green.

"Don't move," I say harshly as I set the full syringe down on the floor beside her bed and grab her arm all while keeping the gun to her head. I use my other knee to hold her arm straight and still, then I poke the needle of the syringe into her and empty its contents into her blood. She is quietly, weakly putting up a fight, but soon her eyes start to close as the drugs take effect and pull her into a deep, forced sleep. She will be out for at least an hour, longer if I don't wake her. Just what I need so I can move her without worry.


	12. *slice*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This chapter was hard to write. We start to see how sadistic this guy is and it gets a bit violent. Also, it may be helpful to look up the impact of sleep deprivation. That in itself can be a type or torture and is a huge part of this chapter. In the next few chapters you will also see Maggie start to lose hope and see a changed state of mind... all due to the torture. I'd say enjoy, but...

Maggie's POV~

I hear him talking which wakes me up. I'm still on the cot and instantly start to fight against him until I come to my senses enough to feel the coolness of the barrel of his gun against my forehead. Then he moves so one of his knees is pressing into my ribs. The pain is enough that my vision goes black around the outside. I can't breathe, can't think. Then he grabs my arm and is forcing it down against the cot at my side. I don't realize what he is doing until his other knee is holding it down and I see the needle. I dont know what is in that syringe, but what I do know is I can't let him inject me with anything. I can't afford to have drugs in my system when I'm already so helpless. But how can I stop him?

Helpless. That's never a word I thought I would use to describe myself. I've always been strong, always done my job well. I've always been strong enough I could help others and still keep myself safe. But now?

I feel the needle enter my skin, but the pain pales in comparison to what I feel in my chest and the pain of knowing I'm at his complete mercy. Despite everything, all that I'm experiencing, the worse part is how I failed myself. How I failed my partner, my team. And I can't fight. I have nothing left. The little sleep I've had in the last few days both in the hospital and here isn't enough to help me heal. My injuries are only getting worse.

My world starts to disappear again, though the doubts never fade. No fight can prevent me from slipping into the nothingness.

* * *

Extremely loud music is blaring which wakes me from the nearly unconscious state I had been in. It's so loud I don't feel the pain at first. Almost. But as I open my eyes and my brain starts to function, it comes rushing back in strong waves that could have knocked me over. In the next moment, my brain takes in the position of my body. My hands are chained together above my head connected to a hook on the ceiling. My knees are resting on the cold, hard floor, and I'm sitting on my heels.

The part that shocks me the most is that my shirt has been removed. Im standing there, the cold, damp air touching my stomach and back, and I can't figure out why. What does he want with me? But my exhausted brain is nearly useless against the banging music and little sleep.

I don't know how long the music played. It felt like days when it finally turned off, and suddenly it was so quiet that the silence almost hurt worse. I realize I have been crying as I feel the tracks of my tears on my cheeks but couldn't remember when.

By head starts to drop so my chin rests on my chest, now thinking I might get a break, but then I hear familiar footsteps down the stairs. I just need to sleep, just a few minutes. I can't even think straight.

"Maggie," I hear as the door opens, blinding me against the darkness. My ears are still ringing and for a moment I think I hear _his_ voice instead.

"OA," I whisper, my voice almost giving out. I realize how thirsty I am.

I hear the laughter and know immediately I was mistaken. My hope is disappearing, and I have little left to hold onto.

He steps into the room, slowly, painfully slow. He has something in his hands and I'm mortified as I see the glint of light off the blade.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, sickly sweet. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, but I turn my face away. He grabs my chin forcefully to look at him and holds the knife to my cheek.

"I thought I taught you not to do that," he spits, furious. "Do it again, I dare you!"

Keeping the knife on me, he moves his head so his forehead is resting against my right cheek. He nuzzles into me and breathes deeply. I shiver involuntarily, and I feel the tip of the blade dig into my cheek in his frustration. I hardly notice the pain, I'm just frozen in the fear of what he plans on doing to me while I hang at his mercy. He stands up quickly and walks behind me. He pulls hard on the chain that hold my wrists together so that I am violently forced to stand. The yanking of the chain is enough to send my vision spinning and nearly dislocates my shoulders. Now my feet are barely touching the floor and every part of me is on fire.

The man comes back into eyesight and just stands there so close I can feel his breath on my face. His hand comes back up to graze my cheek, but I'm in too much pain to notice.

"None of this is my fault," he says sounding sincere. "If you and your _partner_ ," he continues spitting out the last word, "wouldn't have interfered, none of this would be happening. It's his fault, really. He did this to you. It's all his fault."

I suddenly grow angry, so angry I start to shake. "Don't put this on him!" I shout. "You did this, YOU!"

The volume of my voice surprises me, I didn't think I had anything left. It clearly surprises him to because he has the knife up to my cheek and his hand on my chin holding me In place as he slices down the flesh of my cheek cause warm blood to run down my face onto my chest. He growls and tells me to watch myself. He then folds the knife to my throat and says next time, he won't hesitate. But I don't feel fear. Not now. I'm ready to fight.

He turns away, setting the knife down next to some other things on a wooden box he is using as a table. I'm too far away to see what else is on the table, and don't want to know.

"I'll come back later when you are ready to play." With that he's gone and starts the loud music again. This time light floods the room so bright it hurts despite my tightly closed eyes. My head begins to pound.

This happens over and over. Sometimes after he turns off the lights and music he stays for mere moments to mess with me, running the blade along my skin, other times he does more. Tells me I'm weak and that it's OA's fault. Tells me they gave up on me. Tells me no one is coming. Or touches my body. Sometimes he caresses me and other times he is smacking, punch, cutting me. I never know what to expect and when I flinch he grows even more angry.

The visits start to blur together. I can't separate the injuries, the hate. My muscles are screaming, and the weight I'm putting on my wrists grows as I become weaker and unable to hold myself up.

Just when I think I'm about to die, when all hope is gone, as I'm about to give in all together, the music turns off and the lights dim. The door opens, and he comes toward me. His lips are moving but no sound is coming out. His brows furrow together and he slaps me hard across the face. He is talking again, looking for answers, but I can't understand. I just shake my head, my ears still not hearing him clearly enough to provide an answer. He hits me again. Again. Again.

"Stop." I try to say, "stop." I'm begging, finally too broken to care about my pride or appearing strong.

"Stop," I whisper one last time. I'm done. I'm ready for it to end. All of it. The pain, the exhaustion, the noise. My life.

"I think it's time to call your partner. Let's see what he says about your bad behavior." I see him grab his phone from his waist, dial, and hold the phone to his ear.

My heart starts to beat faster. One last glimmer of hope in my soul. OA? He's talking to OA? Maybe I can get him a message. But what can I say? What can I tell him? I know next to nothing that would be of help.

"Hello, Agent," I hear and I snap back to the situation at hand. I can't help it. "OA?" I'm shouting. "Help me, OA, please!" I hate the pathetic sound of my voice, the desperate need for someone else to save me, but I can't help it.

"Shut up!" the man yells. He grabs the knife again and holds it under my throat. I don't know what OA is saying, but I hear him screaming through the phone. He just keeps screaming, not even stopping for breath it seems, but then my captor comes up to me and drags the knife across my chest, deep. I scream out loud, screaming his name.

He then says, "Hear that? Shut up or there's more where that came from. Maybe next I'll slit her throat." Silence. I no longer hear his voice, and I suddenly wish he would keep screaming just so I could hear his voice for a few more seconds.

My captor has other ideas. "Maggie has been a bad girl. She needs to be punished. The direction the rest of this conversation goes will determine just how severe that punishment will be. Do you have what I want?" He waits and I hear the quietest murmur on the other end of the line.

"Good, good. Now here's what I want you to do. Drive them to the old factory parking lot at the 2500 block of Wright Avenue. Do you know where that is? Someone will meet you there. Then you will let him leave. When I get a call from my partner saying he has the weapons, I'll consider letting Maggie go. Do you understand? And if there is any sign the weapons have been messed with or you bring company, she's dead. You have 90 minutes."

My mind is racing. I can't hardly believe what I'm hearing. This is over the Javelins? This is the Zetas? _Maybe_ he will let me go? What if he doesn't? I can't live like this. I can't do this anymore. My heavy eyes start to close, all my energy gone.

"You have 15 seconds," my captor says.

Then the phone is at my ear and I hear OA calling for me. "Maggie? Mags? Can you hear me?"

I just groan in response, too overwhelmed to speak.

"Mags, are you okay? I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. But I'll find you. I promise!"

His words move me to my very core. All too soon, the phone is pulled away from my ear, but still I shout, "No! No, it's not." I'm not sure if he heard me because my shout is more of a loud whisper and the call is disconnected. With that, he punches me in the ribs, once, twice, a third time and turns to walk out the door. Moments after, loud music fills the space, and I cry out in anguish because I know sleep won't come, not now, not with this volume, this noise surrounding me with out end. My only hope lies with OA, with his words and his promise.

* * *

I know my primary focus is getting the Javelins. I know that and do my best to stay focused, but I can't help but relive what I've done to Maggie and what more I could do. I never imagined I would have so much fun. It's been a day and I don't want to stop, don't want to give her up. I'll have to milk this for all it's worth. In the meantime, I have one more call to make. The other job Gorge, Andy and I have been tasked with is complete. The canisters and bullets are ready to be picked up. Those agents will never know what hit them.


	13. *promise*

OA's POV~

It doesn't take too long for me to realize Dana and Jubal are not going to give me the real Javelins. They say they can't, but that means risking Maggie's life. I can't let her die because they want to press their luck, press Maggie's luck. But there's no way I can get to them on my own. I don't have access to the weapons. So, I do what I can.

"Put a few of the real ones in the back. If they check them, and we have to assume they will, everything will look up to par. We can't risk them checking to find out we scammed them. Maggie will be dead before we can apologize."

I stare down Dana who is watching me. Her eyes flicker to Jubal, and I know she is considering it even though it's a big move. He gives the smallest nod, and I've never been more thankful for the man sitting next to me. I breathe a sigh of relief.

Dana makes the necessary calls leaving out a lot of unnecessary information. This is a risk we are all taking, a risk that could get us fired, and in so much trouble because the higher ups would never agree. We don't negotiate like this. But none of us voice this worry and none of us really care. Maggie needs us. Now.

* * *

Jubal tells me to get some sleep while I can, but the thought of sleep while Maggie is suffering is impossible. I haven't eaten anything or gotten any sleep since it happened, but I hardly notice.

I still have 6 hours before I can expect a call from this mystery man, now identified as Jose Guerra. We still have a lot of work to do, but know he has at least one close associate and maybe more. With the Zetas behind this, we are dealing with a powerful, financially stable group who have the means and motive to get what they want. We need to know everything about them. So I work.

Then Kristen appears before me, and I look up from the file I've been reading. I moved to a hotel, and Kristen, Jubal and Dana met me after we figured out a plan. Dana had to return to the office after we decided on the plan, but Jubal and Kristen had stayed here to help with information research.

"There's been some chatter off biological weapons within Zeta communication. Anthrax seems to be the big one. Before you do anything, you have to be vaccinated. Jubal's orders. The chances it's connected is next to none, but he wants to make sure we cover our bases. Normally someone would come to administer, but with the necessity of keeping this secret, I'll call in a favor for you and bring it here myself. I'm not a nurse, but I think I can give it to you," she says putting a hand on my shoulder for a moment and then walking away back to where she is working at a table in the corner of the room.

I can't help but think of Maggie being exposed. Now there's even more to worry about. There's much more to do, and now with the possible threat of biological warfare, we have even more to uncover. Kristen says it's unlikely there's a connection, but the fact she says anything at all to me is a warning.

* * *

I'm shaking in my chair when the phone in front of me rings. It's sitting on one side of the table. Jubal and Kristen take up the side across from me. Dana is on conference call with us from her office. We had all been nearly silent while we counted down the minutes to then next contact. It came only two minutes late, two minutes that felt like years. I answered trying to make my voice steady and strong.

I hear Maggie call for me, asking, begging me to find her and for a few moments I lose the ability to remain calm. I start shouting at him telling him not to hurt her, to let her go, saying I will take her place. Then she screams, a truly horrific, desperate sound. She screams my name, and it cuts me to my very soul. But then Jubal's hands are on me, shaking me to get my attention, to get me to calm down and Jose tells me to stop or he'll slit her throat. My voice dies, and I just sit there breathing trying to find my calm. I know she needs it, needs me focused.

Then he says she needs to be punished, that she has been bad. I don't know what that means, but it makes me want to vomit. I tell him I have what he wants, that it's ready for him. He tells me what to do. He tells me where to drive them and what to do when I get there. Jubal is recording the conversation while Kristen is trying to trace the call.

Then he says he _might_ release her if I do this. Might? That's not good enough, but I know better than to press my luck. So I'm quiet. It kills me, but I bite my tongue and continue to listen. When he's done speaking I look to Kristen. She shakes her head so I have to keep him talking.

"Let me speak with her. Prove she's alive." The words are out before I know what I've asked, and I find I'm holding my breath praying he lets me hear her voice. I need to hear her, crave her voice like the desert craves rain.

He gives me 15 seconds. I hear her voice. She's there. She quiet, she's hard to hear, but she's there. She's alive. _Alive_. I exhale, feeling my body refill with hope I had lost. "I'll find you. I promise!" And then she's gone.

Kristen looks to me, disappointment in her eyes. I know she didn't get it. But when she shows me the screen I see she narrowed it down. She was close. That will help significantly.

Then I remember what he said. '90 minutes' rings through my brain and I'm in motion.

Kristen calls my name and I turn to look at her. "I was able to get a vaccine from someone I trust, but it's only one dose and usually people get three over the course of a few weeks. If there is exposure, you will have to take the antibiotics. There's still a risk, so be careful." I nod and let her inject me. I barely feel it, though I know it should hurt, and she apologizes for not really knowing what she's doing. The pain pales in comparison with what I'm already feeling.

We are going over the plan one last time when Jubal comes in from the parking lot. "The tracker is in one of the back crates," he explains.

I look to Kristen. "The one we're using is so small it should avoid human detection, and shouldn't be caught on any scans. Guerra said he'd release Maggie, but just in case he doesn't, this will help us get her back."

I nod taking in her words, thankful for this addition to the plan. Then Jubal is talking again. "All you are doing is getting the truck where it needs to be, letting him check them, and then watching him leave. That's it. Then you get back here however you can. We'll take it from there."

I grab the door handle before Jubal speaks one more time. "Be safe."

I nod and am out the door.

* * *

I pull into the parking lot nearly 20 minutes early. I park and wait. That's all I feel I've done the whole time. Wait. Wait. Wait. But I don't wait long. I see headlights coming from the entrance to the parking lot. The car stops and a man gets out. He comes to the driver's door and opens it.

"Get down. Slowly." I see the gun in his hands pointed at my head and comply. The anger builds and I want to beat the living hell out of him, but I'm no good to Maggie dead. So once on the ground I follow his other demands. "Lay down on the ground." "Put your hands on your head." "Stay still."

I let him check me for weapons but have not to find. Finally, he takes the key from my hand and goes to the back. He tells me to follow, so I do. He opens the door and scans the inside for what I assume to be bugs. He doesn't find anything which is the second miracle of the night after hearing Maggie's voice. Then he takes one box out and sets it on the ground. Like I expected he doesn't take the first one, but one from the row behind. Luckily I figured he would and planted the real ones there. I breathe a quiet sigh of relief. Luck hasn't been on our side thus far. It's time for a success. He opens the box, scans it much like Quinn did when we were in the middle of 'purchasing' from Martin Vickers. It checks out and he smiles. Then, he pulls a bullet from his pocket. But it looks strange, like it had been tampered with. He puts the round in the Javelin, turns around to face the abandoned building and fires.

When the bullet explodes, a devastating sight, I notice a strange cloud of gas fills the air. My eyes widen as I put pieces of the puzzle together. Anthrax. Weaponized missiles that explode and emit deadly bio warfare. I'm still in shock when the guy turns around. He obviously loves the feeling of holding such a powerful weapon. The euphoric feelings are apparent on his face and in his voice as he shouts in victory.

He puts the Javelin down in the box, grabs his gun and holds it out. "Turn around and kneel."

I can't fight because he has to lead us to Maggie, but I know me on my knees means one thing. A bullet to the back of the head. Even if I wanted to fight, I'm six feet away and have no weapon. If I lunge at him, I'm dead, if I run, I'm dead. I'm dead no matter how this plays out. I hesitate and he screams, " I said on your knees!"

He grips his phone with his other hand making further threats without needing to say a word. I know what will happen if he calls his boss. I slowly nod knowing at least the tracker is still in place, that Maggie can be found even if I'm dead. I hear Jubal talking quietly in my ear saying "No, no, OA, don't!" but I can't think, just do what I'm told. Rain drops start to fall despite it being December. It's cold, but helps me focus on my task at hand. Maybe there's something more I can do, something more than accepting defeat. But it's too late. There's a sharp, intense pain. I fall to the ground, and everything I know fades away. Maggie is the last thought I have.

BREAK~

When Gorge calls me saying he has the weapons, that they check out, that the bullets we've made work, and that there was no sign of outside involvement, I'm ecstatic. I can taste the win, it's so close. I look at Maggie through the monitor, the camera capturing her as she hangs, broken in the basement. I know now there is no way I can let her go, but that I would rather keep her here and eventually kill her. But now is much too soon. And after OA sees her die, he will be clay in my hands. He will help me finish them all off. It's time to go back down and see my sweet Maggie.


	14. *FIRE!*

_OA's POV~_

_She's there, in front of me. She's smiling, beautiful, not a scratch on her. She reaches for me, and finally, finally, her hand reaches mine. At first I think maybe this is heaven, that we are both dead. But her hand isn't warm. It's cold and clammy. Her appearance starts to change as a slash appears across her forehead, dripping blood. The next gash appears across her neck. Now she's gasping, hands around her throat to stop the bleeding, unable to breathe. Her eyes are full of raw panic. She's dying right in front of me, but I'm frozen unable to do anything. Suddenly, her hand shoots out pointing at me and she's mouthing something, but I can't make it out. It hits me. She's saying, "It's your fault. You killed me." She says it over and over until she stops fighting for breath and the light leaves her eyes. Her body falls to the floor and I'm screaming, screaming, screaming. She can't be dead, she can't be..._

Rain hits my cheek, cold drops. My clothes are soaking and I'm shivering. It takes me a moment to realize why I'm on the ground when my pounding head becomes focus. Im fighting to breathe, the nightmare so real, and my heart is nearly jumping from my chest. I sit up slowly, hand on the back of my head where I must have been struck with his gun when I hear a very faint voice calling my name. I look down to the ground when I see my ear piece which had fallen out of my ear. I pick it up and place it back in my ear.

"OA! Answer me!" Jubal is still screaming and I realize the rain must have damages the camera.

"Jubal, I'm fine, I'm okay," I sigh. Suddenly my thoughts return to why I'm here in the first place and my mind clears, forgetting my injury completely.

"Maggie." I say to him. "What about Maggie?"

"You were down about 10 minutes. We are on our way to you. We thought you were..." his voice drifts off to nothing and I realize I easily could be dead. My thoughts return Maggie. Will she be released? How will I know? Will he call?

I realize I've been crying this whole time, since before I woke up. My tears are mixed with the rain.

I hear sirens and realize the fire consuming the warehouse is still burning, the rain not enough to put out the flames. I can't be here when they arrive. There are too many questions, too much on the line. I have to get out of here.

I get to my feet too quickly, my vision becoming blurry as my head continues to ache. I begin to run, run in the direction of the entrance to take cover in the old, rundown guard station. I barely make it as the fire trucks pull in, followed closely by the police department and an ambulance. I sink down to the ground thankful for a shield from the rain, though it's still cold and the room is tiny. Jubal and Kristen will be here in about 15 minutes if they are driving as fast as I think they might. So, I sit. Again I'm just waiting. Waiting to hear something, waiting for help. Waiting to hear what will come next.

* * *

We are driving in silence. There's nothing to say. Kristen is tracking the truck carrying the Javelins in hopes it will lead us to Maggie. We head toward the area where Kristen traces the call, about a 25 block radius. It's big, too big and we don't see anything that gives us firther clues.

The semi seems to be going back and forth in many different directions, taking many different routes. It's probably a diversion to make sure it's not being followed, but I grow more and more restless thinking about Maggie.

Dana has contacted some friends she has at a satellite FBI office outside the Zeta territory that she feels can help us when we go to get Maggie. While I wish we could prevent outsiders from being a part of this, I know we need the help and we can't trust anyone from our office. They should be here within the hour ready to go so we have some time, too much time.

BREAK~

It feels so good to get what I want. When Gorge gets back, I'll take the Javelins to the Zetas directly. The three of us, Gorge, Andy and I will be welcomed into the family with open arms, no longer wondering if we are safe, if they are really there for us. Rival gangs will back off with our Javelins to protect us. Our neighborhood will be safe again and our families will be protected. No more children getting shot through the walls of their houses or drive by shootings. We will be able to _live_ again. The thought is incredible. I feel powerful, invincible. I want to celebrate.

I head toward the basement with an extra pep in my step. As I reach the bottom of the stairs I pause to dim the lights and pause the loud music. It's been annoying to listen to, almost uncomfortable to me upstairs, but it's all part of the plan.

I enter the room and the sight I see before me is thrilling. Blood has pooled on the floor and my captive hangs limp on the chains. She hardly moves when I enter, and, for a brief moment, I wonder if she's dead. That would have been a bummer. But I see her twitch where she hangs, like she's trying, but unable, to raise her head to see me.

I walk forward and grab her chin carefully in my hand. I tilt it up so she is looking at me. Suddenly the desire is too much, overwhelming every part of me. I cradle her cheek with my hand and the other snakes behind her to grab the back of her head. I kiss her cheek, lightly, just once. Then I do it again and again. It feels so good, her against me like that, unable to move away, no strength left to fight. She's mine now. There is nothing that can take her from me. I pull her closer and turn her face slightly to give me better access. Then I kiss her fully on her mouth. For a moment she is still, but then she starts to fight. She is doing everything she can to push me away and clips my cheek with her forehead.

Anger boils inside me; I'm overcome with fury. I stand and grab the knife off the table near the door. I take the knife and stab her in the stomach. I don't really mean to, and I'm a bit surprised, but that feels better than anything else I've done so far. I stare at the knife still buried in her flesh and at my hand still holding the handle. I pull my hand away and watch her struggle for breath and the knife moves with her body.

I love this, the way it makes me feel. It's almost more than I can take and a glee-filled sob comes from my mouth. My finger slides through the trail of blood the would has created. I draw it slowly to my lips. I hear the labored breathing, her cries and sobs. This moment is perfect. With glazed eyes and a full heart, I stand, turn and exit the room.

I'm almost to the top of the stairs when I hear a loud bang come from outside. It's shooting. Someone is firing a gun. I'm momentarily stunned, not sure what to do, but then my instincts kick in and I'm moving. I call for Andy and a few other guys who are hear helping with the guns. Gorge is one of them. I'm not sure when he got back, but I'm glad he's here. They come running, already armed. I grab a rifle off the table and look out the window. There's cop cars around everywhere, large black SUVs. There are maybe 20 cops and agents outside. It looks like they were trying to get closer but my men must have seen them coming and prevented it. Then, what makes me most angry of all is the man I see standing in the middle. It's her partner, Omar. I could spit fire and immediately break the glass and stick the end of my rifle out the window.

"Come any closer and you will regret it." I shout. "Maggie can't take much more. I'd hate for her to die."

He turns to look at a woman next to him, but then turns back to me. He uses a loudspeaker to project his voice as he speaks to me.

"Jose Guerra, all of you need to immediately come out of the house, hands up, without weapons. Do this now and no one will get hurt."

He must think I'm stupid, and I let him know.

"I have a bio weapon in here that I'm not afraid to use. Maggie will be the first to die and you will all die, too."

"What happens to you in that situation?" he calls sounding sure and unwavering.

"I'll die if it means you don't get her back. I'd rather die than go to prison," I'm starting to panic a little, but don't let it show.

"Guerra, we know about the anthrax. We're all vaccinated. Nothing will happen to any of us, only you. You will die a horrible death. Is that what you want?" He's calling out to my men now. One looks to me briefly before his eyes narrow again in focus.

"Not Maggie!" I have to call his bluff. He's lying, he has to be. "FIRE!" I yell and my men begin to fire. I grab a canister off the table in the back room and momentarily look to the monitor showing her broken body in the basement. As I return to the front I see one of my men, Johnny, on the floor shot in the shoulder.

"Put on your masks," I yell. One thing they didn't consider: we have gas masks to protect us. There is still risk, and we will still carry it on our skin, but it won't kill us if we decontaminate soon. I set the canister to detonate. It begins to release its toxins as I grab Andy and two others who are close. We head out the back. There are officers, but only a handful and we are able to take them out or push them back into cover.

We get into a car parked in the back and take off, tires squealing. I don't dare look behind me, but know we are being followed. This may be the end after all, but we still have one trick up our sleeves. One trick that may be our Hail Mary, our saving grace.


	15. *alarm*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I hate José. This chapter gets even more twisted.

Maggie's POV~

As I drift back and forth between life and death, I realize he's here again in front of me. But the problem is I don't know who _he_ is. The last half dozen times or so I think it's OA, think he is here to save me, but the facade doesn't last long. It fades away to reveal a new horror, a new form of torture from my captor. There have even been a few times when I was in a state between being asleep and awake where I made him up completely. I call out to him, can even hear his voice, but right when he's about to touch me, wrap his arms around me, right when the hope I've long since lost begins to flood my body, he disappears completely and I'm left alone.

He's back. I faintly remember the music turning off and the lights dim, but I can't hear much of anything. I feel him touching me, my chin, my face. Then his lips are on my cheek. He's kissing me. I pray it's OA because if it's not anything could happen, my captor could take anything he wanted and I would be completely defenseless. But I open my eyes and see it was never OA.

I feel like I'm going to vomit though there is nothing in my stomach. I'm frozen and can't move. But then he's on my lips. I start fighting with everything that I have. I manage to clip him with my forehead. He growls like an animal and lunges for the table by the door. I see him grab the knife and I hope, pray he will end this, thankful I was able to ruin the mood. He comes at me almost too fast for me to track. Then he sinks the knife into me and I can't figure out how I would ever wish for this. I try to scream, but it comes out as more of a moan. I'm crying. I feel him reach down and flick through the trail of blood with one finger. I watch him bring it to his mouth and shiver. The edge of my vision goes black and as hard as I try, I can't stay focused. I fall unconscious and am able to sleep for the first time without music or light to force me awake.

* * *

The next thing I know the world seems to be exploding around me. There is a gas that makes the air cloudy and it is filtering down the stairs. I try to stay awake, try to get out of my restraints, sure someone is coming, that OA is close, but I can't.

Again the world goes black.

* * *

OA's POV

I run inside unable to wait any longer. I hear Dana shouting for me, but I can't stop. My heart is propelling me forward though my brain tells me to wait, to be safe. I have a mask, but it's still dangerous. I can't seem to make myself care. I'm inside. I hardly notice the blood, the few bodies that are on the ground, unmoving. The air is thick and I am thankful for the mask. I don't dare stop moving. I check the rooms on that floor but see nothing. I come to a room which seems to be the source of the bioweapon and momentarily freeze as I see a monitor showing the woman I'm searching for. I leave quickly, searching for a basement door and throw it open knowing now she wouldn't have ever been anywhere else. I'm calling her, shouting her name, but hear nothing. It's eerily silent after the shootout, nothing makes noise. As I get the bottom of the steps I come to a small hallway with one door. I throw it open and am horrified by what I see.

It can't be her. It can't be, but it is. Before me, dangling from the ceiling, is her body. She looks dead. Sickly pale, blood pooling the floor, and a knife. A knife sticking into her bare stomach. The blood is a stark contrast to her pale, white skin. I fly to her, kneeling down, searching desperately for a pulse. I find one, but it's so faint I almost miss it. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief as my hands go to her face.

"Oh, Maggie, I'm here. I'm so sorry, but I'm here now. I got you. Open your eyes. Stay with me."

I immediately pull the mask from my face and put it over hers to protect her from the anthrax that fills the air around us. She doesn't move, not at first, and I'm searching for a way to lower her. I see the crank that is holding her up. I'm pulling on it and slowly lower her to the ground. I pull the loop around her hands off the hook and lay her flat on the ground. There is nothing I can do here. The anthrax is too thick and neither of us can really breathe even though she now has the mask. Her breath is labored and comes out like short gasps each time. Only once does she open her eyes for only a moment. I pick her up, careful of the knife and am pulling her to safety. Up the stairs, out of the house. I get her to an ambulance, but as soon as I set her down, I collapse, coughing, hardly able to breathe. Luckily, they are ready for her, for me. They have the ambulance set up to handle her contaminated body. A man and a woman in white biohazard suits come to tend to Maggie and another comes to get me. He's trying to get me to the decontamination tent, but I can't leave Maggie, not now after I've just gotten her back. I fight against the man, but he tells me the faster I do this, the sooner I can see her again. I know he's right. I have to do this to be there for her. I give in and follow.

The tent is small and has three sections. The first I remove my clothing and give them to the man in the suit who double bags them. The next section is a shower where I am hosed downand washed rigorously with soap. I might have been embarrassed had I not been so concerned, so focused on getting back to Maggie. I think about her going through the same process, know she needs to be before she can be taken to the hospital and am not sure she can survive it. It will take every last ounce of energy and fight she has left in her body.

In the third section I dry off and get new clothes. Another doctor is there. She takes my blood to be tested and tells me I need to wait for the tests to come back before I can leave. As her words sink in, I stand and push past her saying I can't wait, that I have to go to Maggie. She tries to get me to come back, but Dana is there pulling me with her farther away from that house and that tent until I'm in the passenger seat of a vehicle. She's driving us to the hospital, and I want to thank her, but my brain is still working too hard and fast for me to be able to say anything.

"I should tell you how stupid that was," she says softly. I can tell she's not really upset. "You did well, OA, you did really well. You took a huge risk, but the EMTs said she probably wouldn't have lasted even a few more minutes."

I still can't speak. I just sit there staring at her while she drives. I don't know what's come over me, but her words just don't seem to make sense at the moment. I need to know how Maggie is doing. Nothing else matters.

"OA," she says exasperated. "OA, you saved her life."

"Maybe," I finally choke out and turn to face the window so she doesn't see the single tear that falls down over my cheek. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. A chant that takes over my mind and I will Dana to drive faster, get us there faster.

* * *

Maggie is now, finally, on a hospital bed in a specialized, enclosed room to prevent her weakened immune system from being exposed to any more illness. It will also prevent anything from being spread, even though that is unlikely. The filtration system will keep any remaining anthrax or other illnesses out of the air and will eventually help her breathing when the anthrax in her lungs starts to make it hard. I'm in the same room, sitting on my own bed, but there is a glass wall between us much like the one that separates us from the non-infected people also in the room. It's a room within a room, I suppose.

I want to be with Maggie, but this was the deal the doctors made. Since I wouldn't wait for my blood to be tested at the house, I have to stay in here until I'm cleared.

She looks tiny in the bed, and I try to picture how she looked before this all happened. All I see is the way she was hanging from the chains when I found her. Her surgery was hard, took almost four hours. She was just brought here a few minutes ago where she is in critical condition.

I've been here the whole time thanks to Dana who pulled me away. She's here with me and so is Jubal. There is a doctor here all the time. He calls to Dana and Jubal and has them follow him until they are standing near me at the glass wall. I stand so I can hear him, too.

"Maggie's tests just came back. She is suffering from a high dose of anthrax. It hasn't taken much effect yet, but the serious injuries she has make this situation much worse. Apart from the anthrax, her body has started to shut down in attempt to keep her heart beating due to the extended duress an torture she endured. The extent of pain she felt should have been enough to kill her, but she is strong and is fighting very hard to stay alive. Aside from the obvious bumps and bruises, the laceration to her chest was very deep and is already showing signs of irritation from the anthrax. She has 5 broken ribs, a few fractures and a dislocated shoulder. Her left wrist is fractured, her right wrist is sprained, and on her way here, a broken rib punctured a lung. The stab to the stomach cased a lot of damage and she is lucky to be alive. The surgery went as well as could be expected, but she coded twice on the table. She is extremely dehydrated and needs nutrients that she was denied so she can heal. If she makes it through the next 24 hours, her odds of surviving will increase steadily. Until then, it's more of a guessing game, I'm afraid." He pauses for a moment before continuing. "In two days or so we will start to see her breathing become more difficult as the anthrax takes hold and runs its course. We've started her on antibiotics, but the amount of anthrax she was exposed to is extreme. We can only hope for the best." He looks at the three of us with sympathy and then turns to walk away.

"Wait," I hear myself say. "Will she remember what happened?"

He looks at me for a few moments. "Honestly, I'm not sure. But what I do know is that when she wakes up, there is a very good chance she will be scared. The ventilator will prevent her from talking and it will feel uncomfortable. Her first instinct will be to fight it. At first she most likely won't remember much, just bits and pieces really. It won't be easy for her. Her brain scans have shown stress in the fight or flight part of the brain. That usually means heightened reactions emotionally both before and after memories return. Eventually, things should calm down, but again, it won't be easy."

"What about OA?" Dana asks.

"His tests are up next. Since he got that first vaccine, it looks better for him, though he took of his mask which means he might have had more exposure than the vaccine could fight off. We should know in the next 20-30 minutes. For now, just sit tight." The doctor walks back to his computer, checks something, and then goes in to check on Maggie.

I look at Dana and Jubal. Just then Dana's phone begins to ring. The doctor looks up at her with narrow eyes obviously annoyed at how loud it is. She excuses herself and motions for Jubal to follow.

I sit back down on my bed, looking at Maggie hoping she will wake soon. I don't want her to be in pain, but I need to know she is going to be okay. I lay down curled on one side so I can see her. I feel like a child, but need to know she's really here, that it's really over. I fight the sleep that threatens to pull me under, but can't win. It's been too long and before I know it, I'm out.

The next thing I know, the doctor is leaning over me calling my name quietly. I jolt up momentarily forgetting where I am. It comes back in a rush and I move so I can see Maggie, reassuring myself that for now she's fine. I turn my attention back to the doctor who has taken a few steps back and is looking at his clipboard.

"You are very lucky, Omar," he starts. "You have a good amount of anthrax in your lungs, but it doesn't look to be like a dose that will do any long term damage. You are being prescribed antibiotics that you will need to take for the next sixty days. You will have to come back in a week and again after you finish the antibiotics just to make sure, but I think you will be fine," he says with a small smile. I just stare at him thinking it isn't fair that I'm okay and Maggie is so obviously not. I should have kept a better watch on her at the hospital, should have been in control of all of this.

"You need to stay overnight just for observation and a few more tests, but you should be out of here tomorrow. In fact, I can move you to a normal room."

I want to be relieved, but I'm not. I just say, "thank you, doctor, but I'd rather stay here," and lay back down. I can't leave her to be alone. She needs to know I'm in this with her to the end.

* * *

I wake to alarms going off and hear the doctor shout for help. I sit up and look to Maggie. She is thrashing around, eyes wide, clearly still partially out of it and unable to tell what's going on. I know I'm not supposed to, but I open the door that separates us and am at her side in moments. I faintly hear the doctor yelling at me to get back, that she could make my condition worse, but I don't care. I'm finally there, have one of her hands in mine and the other on her face trying to get her to look at me. Our eyes connect and she stops fighting for a moment. Then she's fighting the tube in her throat. A nurse comes in holding a syringe. She sees it and begins to fight even more violently, panicking more. Her heart monitor is screaming at us and I don't know what to do.

"Maggie, Listen to me," I whisper in her ear. "Listen, it's okay. You're here, you're safe. I got you. He can't hurt you anymore. Just relax, it's okay. It's okay, Mags," I'm begging her to listen, to calm, and its slowly working. Her eyes are on mine again and her hand tightens just barely around mine. The nurse is able to inject the syringe into one of her IVs. She's trying to fight the effects, the need of sleep, and just shakes her head slightly as her eyes drift shut.

"I won't leave, I won't let anything bad to happen. I'm right here and you're okay," I'm saying, promising her. I mean it. Every single word.

I realize I'm crying again but don't care because Maggie is here. She is alive, and she is fighting.

* * *

With Maggie asleep again and unable to sleep myself, my thoughts drift to the conversation I had with Dana and Jubal before Maggie woke up.

They told me Jose and three others had fled the scene as I had rushed in to find Maggie. They were followed for 45 minutes in a high speed chase. About that time they must have realized there was no way to outdrive the police and FBI. One man had rolled down the window to their vehicle, had shot a Javelin at the officers and agents. To their horror, the weapon was a dud and nothing happened. About 30 minutes later the car ran over a spike strip, had lost control of the vehicle and had crashed into a couple trees after rolling over at least three times. One guy, Andrew Vega, was dead and two seriously injured. One, Guerra, tried to run from the cops. When they finally stopped him, he pulled a gun and tried to shoot. An agent clipped him in the shoulder, took the gun, and got him to the hospital.

He's here right now. The man who hurt Maggie so badly, who threatened my life and the lives of many others. I wanted him dead, wanted to kill him myself. But I can't. I won't.

After Maggie woke and was put back to sleep, the doctor tried to force me to go back to my room, but I refused. Now that I was here, there was no going back. He eventually let up, and left the room with a shrug. I talked to her a lot and spent a good chunk of time whispering apologies. Dana had to return to the office to work on the aftermath of the situation, but Jubal was here checkin in every now and then.

We've been here a total of 14 hours. It's about 3:00 am and I have about 7 hours before I'm discharged. That's not much time, and there is no way of knowing if Maggie will wake up before then or not.

Slowly, my eyes grow heavy and, with her hand still in mine, sleep comes.

BREAK~

That son of a bitch tricked me! I should have made sure Maggie was dead before leaving the house. On the off chance she survives at all, he will get what he wants while I have nothing, NOTHING! The weapons are fake. Now we are being chased and have nothing left. I just keep driving, not what to do. Gorge asks if maybe we should just stop. I look at him furious, but say nothing. He gets the picture and shuts up. I have no plan, no help, and no way out. Then I see it, the strip across the road that will stop us, but I see it too late. And then we're flying through the air. I don't even have time to scream.


	16. *heartbeat*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter gets a *little* fluffy...

Maggie POV~

At first I'm not sure if he's real or another hallucination. But OA is here, he's trying to get me down, unhook me from the ceiling. He starts to lower me, working gently but quickly. There is a mask around my face to help me breathe and I'm thankful. The cloud had completely encompassed the room while I was sleeping, and I don't think I'd be able to breathe without it. The pain my body is experiencing as I'm lowered is worse than that I felt while hanging. I wish he would pull me back up, but then I'm on the ground and I feel his hands. He's here. It's real. It has to be. If he's not, I know I'm too far gone to save. He is talking to me, begging me to hang on. It's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. But my eyes are closed again and for the life of me, I can't open them again, can't speak, can't move. I feel him pick me up and then we're moving. He carries me up the stairs and I want to hold him tighter, say thank you, do anything. Instead, I sleep.

* * *

The next thing I feel is something in my throat making it hard to move. It's to big, too uncomfortable and I start to try to grab it. Then I hear something ringing, beeping, making noise and I'm instantly back in the basement, not really even sure if I ever left. I start to fight harder and then there are hands on me trying to keep me still, yelling for help and telling me to stop moving. Everything is so blurry and blends together. I don't know what's real and what isn't.

Then someone else is by my side. One of my hands is warmed in his, and another warm hand touches my cheek. I'm afraid he's here, my captor, as I feel his hand on me and am reminded of being in the basement. But I look and it's OA. Instantly I know things are okay, that I'm safe. He did pull me out of the basement; it _was_ real. He's telling me so, whispering sweet things into my ear making sure I know that it's over. Even so, I feel the tube in my throat and become agitated that it is so uncomfortable. I try to pull it out. Then a nurse is here holding a syringe. Panic fills me as I relive the beginning of the whole ordeal, how I was injected with drugs so I could be strung up and tortured. I am terrified. Again I wonder if being rescued was a dream.

I hear OA again, begging me to listen. I look into his eyes and know he will protect me, that he won't leave my side again. As I am forced to sleep I pray I'm right, that his words are a promise, because I can't hold my eyes open any longer.

* * *

I hear my heartbeat coming from a monitor before I'm aware of anything else. Then I make out the hum of a fan of some sort. As I return fully to consciousness, I feel a hand around mine. I smile, because it's firm and calming yet gentle. I turn my head to see him, but the tube down my throat makes it uncomfortable. I'm annoyed. I try to say something, knowing I can't, but the sound is enough to get him to move closer so I can see him.

"Hey," he starts soothingly, "Don't try to speak. The tube is helping you breathe even if it is annoying."

I see the doctor entering the door to come into the bubble we seem to be in.

"Maggie, can you hear me okay?" he asks. I can't nod or talk so I just look at him.

"Your blood oxygen level is almost high enough for us to take out the tube, but we can't yet. Are you in pain? Blink once for yes and twice for no."

I wrinkle my brow for a moment. My body is in so much pain I'm surprised I'm awake, but the relief I feel at being awake, alive, safe is too much to risk. He senses my hesitation, but it's OA who voices my concern.

"Are you too worried to sleep?" he asks. It's a nice way of asking me if I'm afraid. I wish I could blink twice, ashamed at how scared I really am, but it would be a lie so instead I answer with one.

He nods while the doctor tells me sleep is important, but he doesn't understand. I look to OA.

"I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I'll be here the whole time. Nothing will happen." His voice is so sure, so strong, so real. I close my eyes and then nod. My hand tightens around his, but he doesn't pull away this time like he did days ago when I was first brought to the hospital. Instead his squeezes mine in return and I know I'll be safe.

The doctor gives me something to take the pain away and I feel it begin to work immediately. I just keep my eyes on OA, so thankful he is here, until my eyes become too heavy to fight.

* * *

The doctor must have removed the breathing tube when I was sedated because I didn't feel it as it was taken out. I'm relieved I can turn my head, and when I do I see OA right there where he promised he'd be. He is sleeping, but his hand is still around mine. I'm so thankful that he kept his promise even though I knew he would.

The doctor comes into the bubble when he sees I'm awake. "How are you feeling?" he asks quietly.

"Okay," I manage, my voice hoarse. "Can I have some water?" I ask. He hands me a small glass only partially filled. I suck the water up through the straw greedily.

"That's all for now, I'm afraid. Let's see how that sits in your stomach and if it goes well, we'll get you some more." I nod but my throat is sore and parched.

I feel OA shift his hand and see him sit up. My hand squeezes his and again, he doesn't pull his away. He squeezes mine in return. He has a smile on his face as our eyes meet. "Hey," he greets. I return his smile.

The doctor pulls my attention away as he asks how the pain is on a scale from one to ten. "There's a poster here to help," he adds.

I look at the poster which is a series of smiley faces with brief explanations for each level. "25?" I try to joke, but it comes out too strained and no one smiles.

"I'll give you something that will take the edge off, but I need to be able to update you on your condition without you falling asleep on me." Now he's trying to joke. "After we're through, I can give you something stronger."

I nod again and wait. As he goes through each of my injuries and the surgery I have I can't believe I'm still alive. Surely that amount of damage should be too much for any person to survive. If it weren't for the pain, I wouldn't believe him. Then he informs me about the anthrax. It's amazing to me that I was so unaware at the end, that I was so oblivious to what was going on. I had no idea I was exposed.

Suddenly the doctor gets very serious. "Maggie, you were extremely lucky. OA risked his life to get you from that basement. If he would have hesitated or waited for even a few more minutes you would most likely be dead. He gave you his own mask to keep you safe. You are blessed to have a partner like him. I'd keep him around," he finishes on a lighter note. I can't help but turn to look at OA. Stare might be a better word as I take in the doctor's words.

The doctor excuses himself. "Call me when you want something more for the pain." I can't even respond.

"You're in here because you gave me your mask, aren't you?" I ask him finally.

He scoffs. "No, Maggie. I'm in here because I couldn't protect you the first time but I wasn't going to fail you again." He won't meet me eyes.

"You've never failed me. Ever. This is not on you," I'm silently begging him to look at me but he won't. I know he blames himself, and I just can't handle that.

"Look at me. OA." He still refuses so I put my other hand on his arm. "Please."

He finally meets my eyes and I see tears there. It catches me off guard for only a moment. "OA, you heard him. You saved my life." I end in a whisper and I find there are tears in my eyes, too. "You came for me. I knew you would. When I needed you most, there you were."

I blink hard and OA closes his eyes trying to compose himself. The raw emotion in this room is almost too much. I'm sure the glass around us is about to burst, but it doesn't scare me this time. I don't think it scares him either. At least, not too much to stop it.

He exhales long and hard before he speaks, and he is so quiet I have to strain to hear him. "Not soon enough. I thought I lost you. I was so scared you were dead. I never should have left you in the hospital. Never. And to see you there in that room chained up like you were when I got to you? I've never felt so useless." He's done speaking and his words break my heart.

"I'm not going to say it was easy, or that I think the days and weeks to follow will be easy. It was so completely unbearable that I don't have words for it. But never once did I blame you. Not even at the lowest point when I was sure I was dying and he was screaming at me that you don't care. I never blamed you."

He's looking at me now soaking it in, and I can't stop. I can't keep the words in knowing how desperately he needs to hear hear them and how desperately I need to say them. "There were so many times I thought you were there. Dreams, hallucinations, I don't know what to call them. But they kept me sane. They kept me alive. You saved me over and over and over again even when I didn't think there was reason to fight."

Then I'm crying. A few tears fall soft and slow down my cheeks. "There was one time, toward the end I think, when he came down and touched my cheek. It was so gentle I thought it was you, wanted it to be you. And then he kissed my cheek. And my lips." I pause because I'm crying hard enough that my weak lungs can't keep up. He's looking at me, his hand that's not holding mine is balled up in the bed sheets. His knuckles are white. He doesn't want to hear this, has both anger and pain etched on his face, but he can't turn away, can't stop listening. I'm too far now to stop, to quit speaking even though I'm terrified at what it means, what he will think.

I take another breath as deeply as I can before I continue. "When I finally gathered the strength to open my eyes and it wasn't you... I needed it to be you, couldn't stand that he was the one touching me like that... I stopped him and he didn't like that. That's when he stabbed me. I needed you and you came. You saved my life. How can you blame yourself?" At this point I'm crying too hard to continue. I don't know what I expect after this huge confession, but he is moving and is suddenly so close. I smell him and it's so familiar to me, so comforting that I hope he never leaves. As our eyes meet any hesitation he has slips away and his lips are gently pressing into my forehead. They sit there for a moment before he begins to move back slightly. I turn my cheek to him, tears no longer falling. He reads my mind and, after waiting for a small nod from me just to make sure we're on the same page, kisses my cheek. His lips sit there for a moment as well and my eyes drift shut. This memory will cover the more traumatic one. I exhale slowly.

He starts to pull away, but I grab his shirt and hold him so our eyes meet easily. "I still need you," I whisper. He smiles easily, his eyes lighting up like they used to. "Never stop," he whispers back. Then I'm pulling him closer and our lips meet. It's slow and gentle, lasting only a moment or two. It's everything I need, everything we need to say, and so much more.

He pulls away slowly, and this time I let him go. He sits back down, mouth turned up on one side in a smirky smile. My heartbeat monitor is giving away my emotions, though the blush on my cheeks and me looking at my lap probably gave me away first.

"Well..." he says in exhale breaking the silence. "Was that as good for you as it was for me, or..." and then we're both laughing at his joke. There's nothing else to do so we laugh and laugh until I'm gasping for breath. It feels so good and I'm so thankful for this man in front of me. Our laughter stops for a moment as Jubal walks into the room. We both make eye contact, both still slightly blushing, and start laughing again at the confusion written on his face. Jubal chuckles, too, with a shake of his head.

"I'm glad you're doing okay, Mags," he says to me. I smile back and nod.

"Thanks, Jubal."

"I'm going to call Dana. She will be glad to hear you are awake and laughing," he says with a smile. For a moment, I wonder if he knows, if he suspects. But then he's gone, and I'm looking back at OA. There are things we clearly need to discuss now, things we have to say, but it can wait. For now, it's just this moment.

BREAK~

I'm starting to get desperate. I'm stuck in the hospital, cuffed to the bed. I was shot in the shoulder and had to have surgery to repair the damage. I'll be here for a few days and then have to face a judge as I'm tried for my crimes. It will be a long process, and I don't know what to do. I need a plan, I need a way out. I need some help. I pray the Zetas will help me but doubt that they care.


	17. *confessions*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a big one. Please let me know what you think!

OA's POV~

Not long after our talk, we called for the doctor who gave Maggie something stronger for the pain. She tried to fight it, but was clearly suffering. She drifted off, and I was lost in thought.

I can't believe we kissed. It was perfect, simple, but a line I don't think we should have crossed. What will this mean for us? Does it mean anything? Or was it an in-the-moment action that we will put behind us and not talk about again? Am I okay to not talk about it again? It feels so unreal. I haven't even had a chance to think about how I was feeling before it happened. Maggie being gone, being taken from me, has caused all kinds of emotions to form and bubble up. I don't know if they are just because of the situation or if this situation was what forced these feelings to the surface.

As always, I'm probably just over thinking things. I do that. A lot. But what if Maggie regrets it? I don't, but should I? So complicated.

I hear Maggie coughing again- it seems to get worse each time. I know it's the anthrax. The doctor warned us about this. Breathing will become a challenge for her. Almost impossible, even. She may need the breathing tube again. She was not excited about that.

The doctor comes into our bubble, as Maggie calls it. He checks her monitors and listens to her breathing. He is deep in thought. When he finishes he comes around to the other side of the bed to where I'm sitting.

"Her lungs are getting worse. Within the next few hours we will need to take another X-ray to monitor the spread. I've upped her does of antibiotics, so she is already receiving the highest dose she can. Since you refuse to go to your own room, try to keep her calm if she wakes. That's the most important things we can do right now." He pauses for a moment. "Your last test just came back. It looks like you are okay to leave. I'll get your discharge papers filled out."

"Can you just hold off on that for a little while?" I ask. "I need more time."

He looks at me for a moment. "There are some other things I have to do. It might be awhile before I can get to any paperwork."

I give the good doc a small smile before he walks out the door.

* * *

Maggie's POV~

I dream of the kiss. It's mostly good, living in the moment. Other parts are bittersweet as my thoughts return to my husband. I miss him dearly, will always love him, but I can't deny something is happening with OA. I don't know what, don't know what it means, but it's there. And I don't know how it makes me feel. Happy, guilt, scared. All of the above, I guess.

But then I'm coughing, coughing, coughing so hard it pulls me from the dream. I'm tying to pull air into my lungs but I'm having a hard time. Each breath is agony to my broken ribs which makes breathing even more difficult. A vicious cycle.

OA is next to me, trying to keep me calm. I want to tell him to mind his own damn business, that the last thing someone wants to hear when they are worked up is 'calm down.' But I don't, because I can't. Then his hand is on my back holding me up. I must have sat up on my own to ease the cough and not even realized. It's hard to focus. I'm glad he's still here with me and not in his own part of the bubble.

The doctor comes in and listens to my breathing and my heart. OA sits back down in his chair and observes. The doctor's brow is furrowed, and I know he is trying to decide on the best course of action.

"I'm going to have to intubate soon," he says looking empathetic.

"Not yet," I choke out, "please."

He nods, saying he can wait a little longer. As I begin to catch my breath and my coughing begins to subside, he heads to the door, my clipboard in hand.

I look at OA. He looks well, his breathing normal, easy. "I'm getting worse," I say. He nods but doesn't speak. "You're not," I finish. His eyes close just for a moment, pain crossing his face. It's gone in a flash, but gone too late. I saw it. I realize now why he's been allowed to stay with me instead of in his own bed, why the doctor is leaving him alone rather than checking his heart and ability to breathe.

"You're not sick, are you." It's not a question, really, and not an accusation. Actually, I'm so thankful he's okay. Thankful he stayed, again, by my side. Wondering why he had.

He doesn't answer. Just looks at his hands. I'm still sitting on my bed so I reach out my hand. He takes it in his and our fingers interlock. I pull him gently so he stands from his chair and moves to sit beside me on the bed. He looks at me then. "I didn't want to leave. I don't think I could stand it. I need to know you are fine."

I get it. I would feel the same if our position were reversed.

"OA," I start, a cough interrupting. "I need you to know something." I'm coughing again so I have to stop. He hands me a glass with a little water, and I drink it thankfully. I'm looking at my hands again as he takes the empty glass and sets it back on the table.

"I've been thinking a lot about what happened earlier, and thinking about you, too, if I'm honest." I feel my cheeks turn hot and red at the confession. I keep my eyes down. It's all so new, so raw. Without talking about it, it's too much on top of everything else.

He smiles a little and nods. "Same. Weird, huh? The whole thing?"

Again I'm thankful it's him, thankful he has a knack to prevent this from becoming too terribly awkward. I'm grateful for the shift that allows us to talk openly.

"I just need you to know that I still miss my husband, that I still love him, will always love him. But you're here, too, and I'm so torn..."

He smiles at me again, reassuring me that he understands, that he gets it. "Mags, whatever happens or doesn't happen, no one should ever expect to take his place. He's a part of you, has helped shape you into the person you are. Anyone who expects something different doesn't deserve you. And, just in case you haven't figured it out, I care about you. A lot. After almost losing you, I'm not so afraid." He is so matter of fact, so open with his feelings that I can't deny something has changed. This whole situation has brought us closer together, has added to our partnership, to something more?

There is nothing I can say. Nothing to express how I'm feeling, which is good because I suddenly can't breathe. I'm doing everything I can to suck in oxygen, but my lungs won't cooperate. OA is calling for help, grabbing my hand, telling me I'll be okay.

The doctor comes running in. He grabs a tube to intubate and lays the bed back so it's flat. A nurse follows behind him.

"Don't fight me, Agent, okay? Just let it in," he calls before he is inserting the tube down my throat. I gag, but try not to fight it. I see the nurse out of the corner of my eye and she is pushing something into my IV. Even though I know it's irrational, I feel myself panic as I return to the events in the basement. I turn as best I can to look at OA. Our eyes and fingers lock. I'm fine. I'm safe. I'm with OA. I'm not in the basement, and the man, Jose, is under arrest. I'm okay. Sleep pulls me under.

* * *

OA's POV~

Thinking of Maggie's confession gives me butterflies. _Me_. Butterflies. And I'm surprised by my confession back. What is happening with us? I'm saying things I never thought I would say. There is just so much at play here that I don't know what to do. But it doesn't matter because her condition continues to deteriorate. I'm looking at this woman in front of me who has already overcome so much, but she just can't get a break. Her lungs are incredibly week, scans show increased damage and we are not even at the worst yet. Things could continue to go downhill for a few days.

I feel useless. Again. It's only been an hour or so since they intubated Maggie. I just want to help her get better. But with her injuries, a recent surgery, and this anthrax, there is nothing I can do. Her body has to fight, she _has_ to fight. Hard. She needs to come back to us, back to me.

* * *

The doctor entering our bubble wakes me from my restless sleep. He looks concerned- never a good sign. He walks over to me and starts to quietly inform me of what he's discovered.

"Because Agent Bell was exposed to both inhalation anthrax when she breathed it in and cutaneous anthrax through her cuts and other wounds, we have more to worry about. The sores and black scabs that are beginning to appear near her wounds will continue to develop, but shouldn't get much worse; however, I ran some tests earlier this morning because of the inhalation. It turns out that Agent Bell has anthrax meningitis. This occurs in about 50% of these patients and is extremely serious. Normally, there is a mortality rate of 96%, but we caught it very early and can give a strong course of antibiotics. I am hopeful that she will recovers from this, as well."

I'm just starting at him trying to understand what he is saying. 96% mortality? And that's on patients who aren't already fighting for their life. I don't understand how she can survive, but know she has to. She _has_ to make it.

"Also, Agent," he continues, "I finished discharging you-"

"No!" I say loudly.

He holds his hands up in front of him in attempt to calm and quiet me. "Just listen. I just wanted you to know you are allowed to leave. My boss was starting to get suspicious. But, I'm not going to make you leave. You've been here three days. Maybe you want to leave to clean up, change your clothes. Now is a good time to do that. Maggie has been intubated for 12 hours and it's going to worse before it will get better so she won't be waking up any time soon. I'll even let you back in here when you return. It's just a suggestion."

He looks at me for a moment, then turns to leave. I watch him go wondering if he's right, but I can't leave her again. Last time I did that, Maggie was taken and tortured. I promised I'd stay, So I will.

I go the the enclosed bathroom that is connected to our bubble long enough to splash water on my face and change into clothes Jubal brought me this morning now that I'm longer putting up the act of needing treatment. It feels good to be out of the hospital clothes and I'm thankful to have something else to wear even if it is just an extra set I keep in my work locker.

There's something else in the bottom of my bag underneath my sweatshirt. My fingertips connect with the cold metal and I know instantly that he brought me my gun. My badge is here, too. There's also a small piece of paper. I unfold it and read his writing scribbled across the lines. 'I know you're healthy. Since you are staying with her, keep her safe.' He must also know this might not be over. There are more Zetas, more angry people who may try to do something in retaliation since they still don't have what they want. While it's possible they will move on and try for other weapons, it's also possible they won't, that their hearts are set on the Javelins. Thankful yet again for Jubal, I tuck the gun into my waist band at my back.

Feeling better, I leave the bathroom and sit beside Maggie's bed. Jubal or Dana or maybe even Kristen will be back soon to see how she's doing. In the meantime, this is where I'll be. I'm not going anywhere.

BREAK~

Later today I leave the hospital to go to an infirmary while I'm held until my first hearing or until I'm healthy enough to be put away. I know it won't go well for me, and there's no way out. I'm still cuffed to the bed and have an officer or two outside my room 24/7.

I look up when I hear a tray of some sort hit the floor in the hallway. I have to double-take because walking past my room is another Zeta, Ed. I almost don't believe it, but we make eye contact for a moment which tells me he's here for me. He passes my room completely, but I soon hear a loud commotion in the hallway. There's shouting and then I hear a gun. One, two, three rounds. There's screaming and I hear a body slide to the floor. Ed strolls in, smile on his face, and keys in hand. He throws them to me. I'm uncuffed, and he helps me stand despite the pain in my shoulder. I pull the IV out of my arm and press down to stop the bleeding.

"Let's go," he says walking to the door. He looks out both ways, gun raised, before heading into the hall.

"Wait!" I say as I pull on my pants.

"What?" he cries out to me, looking at me in disbelief.

"There's something here I have to do. I need a gun."

I'm staring at him as he thinks about what I said. Finally he nods, pulls another gun from his waistband and hands it to me. "But I'm not waiting. You're on your own."

Then he's gone and I'm out the door, too. The officer who was guarding me is now dead on the floor. A security guard comes around the corner, but I shoot him before he can shoot me. I get to the nurse's station and point my gun at one who is hiding.

"Stand up," I order.

She does and I'm barking more orders at her quickly.

She gives me the information I need and I'm off down the hall headed to the fifth floor toward where I know Maggie is hiding.


	18. *squirm*

Jose's POV~

I'm outside the room where I know Maggie is waiting for me, but I almost have too much adrenaline pumping to focus. This is it; I get to end it. Maggie will be dead and OA, too, if he's here and I get lucky. I pause, my gun hiding under my sweatshirt, as I stand against the wall. A doctor walks out of the room and notices me.

"Friend?" he asks.

"Yeah, how's she doing?" This is too perfect.

"She's sleeping, has a breathing tube, and is on a lot of medication, but you can go in if you'd like," he turns to walk away after giving me a smile.

"Who else is in there?" I'm dying to know, and this doctor is eating out of my hand.

"Just her partner. He got lucky, you know."

Then he's gone and I'm left standing against the wall. I'm so excited and nervous at the same time, and I can't quite get a grasp for what I'm about to do.

Suddenly an alarm is going off. It's loud and I know I'm running out of time. It's been only three or four minutes since Ed took the first shot. I'm surprised it took so long. I have to move if I'm going to get out of here.

I stand up and push open the door. Maggie is laying in her bed, pale and obviously in critical condition. She's inside this glass room on a bed. Her partner is sitting beside her and is holding her hand.

I scoff. That's when OA looks up. For a few seconds he just looks at me before I see his eyes widen and then narrow in understanding. He knows who I am.

Soon I'm to the door of the smaller room. I push it open and am standing there, so close, yet not nearly close enough.

"The things I'm going to do to her," I growl. I can't help it. My eyes are glued on hers. Then the gun is pointed at her. I picture her body pressed up against mine and also with a bullet through her forehead. I'm not sure which I prefer, but either is enough to have me squirming with anticipation. I look to OA but am surprised to see he has a gun as well which is pointing at my head. That's not something I expected. Our eyes lock and we just stare.

"I'll kill you," he says simply.

"Then I'll kill her," I answer knowing my words are like poison to him, but he doesn't hesitate like I expect. Instead his eyes grow even more cold as his finger tightens on the trigger.

"Did you know," he starts, "that there is one spot of the brain that is special. If I shoot you in that one spot, it will immediately stop any action you would want to take; You'll be unable to shoot either of us. I'm a damn good shot." He's standing there and I believe every word he says even though I've never heard this before. The authority in his voice is enough to scare me, though I can't show it.

"I learned about it as a part of Special Forces. I bet there's a 80 percent chance I can hit it. Wanna try? Otherwise, put the gun _down_."

He continues to glare and takes a few steps forward. Now he's about 10 feet away. At first I think it's a rhetorical question, but he keeps staring at me like he's waiting for an answer.

"You have five seconds to put the gun down. Five."

Im so stuck on the words he's saying that I don't realize my gun has fallen a bit and is no longer pointing directly at Maggie.

"Four."

I'm trying to figure out how to kill them both and walk out alive, but I'm not sure how, don't think it's possible. So how can I do the most damage?

"Three."

He's getting too close to zero for comfort. I realize my gun is not pointing at Maggie. At the same time I see Maggie's eyes are open. She is staring at me in horror. If I move it to shoot him first, I'll be dead before I get off a shot. But with Maggie, I have a chance. I have to take it. She needs to die and he needs to suffer.

"Two."

I raise my hands and pull the trigger as fast as I can. I hear two other shots ring out and am slammed by both bullets he shoots. I shout out in pain and am on the floor in seconds. Both my hand and my shoulder hurt in a way I have never experienced and I am having a hard time focusing. I hear Maggie's partner calling for her. I fade away celebrating her death.

OA's POV~

Suddenly the man I hate so deeply for the pain he's inflicted on Maggie is standing before me. He's there, gun in hand, charging the door to our bubble. His gun is on Maggie and my gun is on him. He's just looking at her. I want to shoot him, but need to try to talk him down, need to do my job. His body language tells me that, as of this moment, he's not an immediate threat even with his gun out. I know I don't need to take action quite yet but will be ready.

Then he sees me, and I see panic shoot across his face briefly at the sight of my gun. He wasn't expecting me to have one. Then he's hard faced and talking big about both Maggie and me dying. The seconds feel like hours. The alarm is going off, has since he entered the room so I know help is on the way, but they don't know where he is or what he plans to do.

The next thing I know I'm making up a story about a part of the brain that serves as a instant kill so to speak. I don't know where it came from, but it's good and it's getting him to hesitate. I can't handle the way he is staring at her as if he wants to do unspeakable things. I'm sure he does. I glance over at Maggie while he's thinking and see her eyes begin to flutter. The sound of the alarm, our loud talking will wake her soon, and I hope it's not until after I end this. Whatever that will look like.

I'm still watching carefully for him to show any sign that Maggie is at risk. I will not hesitate to shoot him if he does.

Then I'm counting. I'm counting down from five because this needs to be over now.

"Five." I hear myself say. By the time I get to three I start to see more determination in his face, and I tighten my finger around the trigger.

"Two."

He moves so fast, but so do I. We shoot at almost the exact same time. I shoot once more and then hear nothing except him hitting the floor.

I grab his gun which slid across the floor, check to make sure he really is down, and then my attention is, of course, immediately back to Maggie. She is panicking. But I'm there. I'm by her side as fast as I can.

"It's okay, Mags. I got him. He's down. He can't hurt you. I promised you I would keep you safe and I did. It's over."

The fear in her eyes begins to subside and I can see how much that took out of her. She seems to fall back against her pillow and is fighting sleep, fighting so hard. But the fight is not enough. The second her eyes are shut, I look back to Jose. His breathing is shallow and blood is pooling. Two officers have just come in, guns drawn and raised. I show my badge, quickly explain what happened, and am relieved when I'm told for now I'm no longer needed.

I go back to Maggie's side. She seems to still be fighting her sleep even as it consumes her. The doctor returns to the room and is shocked by what he sees. Maggie is in my arms and Jose is in the hands of two other doctors who get him off the floor onto a gurney and out of the room. When he is gone it takes a minute or two for the alarm to be quieted. As it shuts off and I look again at Maggie, realize how close I was and still am to losing her. She's safe now, but she still might not make it. My gut clenches at the thought as I brush some hair out of her face. I need her to be okay.

She will be. I have to believe that. She will be.


	19. *again*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I'm jumping in time again. This is, sadly, the last chapter. I hope you love it, that it wraps everything up nicely and maybe even ties it together with a bow.
> 
> Also, fluff warning. I may have gone overboard just a little, but I feel like they deserve it after everything.

Three days later

Maggie's POV~

My entire body is sore, but not in agony like it has been. I realize I can breathe and that feels even better. I take a few deep breaths to test my lungs. I cough a little, but it's not like before. I raise my hand to touch my face. The cut on my forehead is now a thin line. I cover my eyes to shade them as I open them to fight the harsh light.

I slowly look around the room. I'm no longer in the bubble, but a normal room. OA is beside me. His arms are on the bed beside me and his head in resting on his arms. He's asleep. I smile, lifting my other hand and gently touching his short hair. I start right at his forehead and run my hand all the way back to his neck.

"That's nice," he mumbles before lifting his head to look at me. He grins at me, his OA smile that says everything is fine.

"How are you?" he asks, studying me.

"I... I feel good. My body aches, but it's so easy to breathe."

He nods letting out a chuckle, his smile getting brighter. I feel a little pang in my stomach at how it makes me feel to have him smiling at me like that. "You did so well, Mags. I was really worried. At one point your heart stopped again, but you kept fighting. You never gave up."

He is looking at my hand as his fingers brush from my elbow to my fingertips before he folds his hand around mine.

"I had a dream," I say quietly. "But I'm not sure it actually was a dream. That man... Jose...was in the room with us. With a gun." I stop talking and look at him. His smile fades for the first time since waking up.

"You're right. He was here. He had a gun and was threatening you. But I stopped him before he even touched you."

"Is he... dead?" I whisper.

He looks at me before shaking his head. I should have expected that, but I just want it to be over for real. He's already been shot and 'stopped' twice. What's to say he won't come after me again? But I know I won't be able to ask without crying so I just turn my head away and close my eyes.

"Mags," he says trying to get me to look at him but I'm suddenly so unsure, so worried. Worried that I'm not truly safe, worried about what will happen between us. Unsure of what he's thinking or feeling, unsure of how I'm feeling either.

"Maggie," he says again. "It's not quite what you think. I thought he was dead at first. He wasn't moving and I couldn't hear any breathing. The doctors must have brought him back. But, Mags, he really can't hurt you anymore. He sustained a lot of brain damage. He may be technically living, but he will never recover. The doctors are sure of that."

I'm trying to take in his words, to focus, but it's too unreal.

"Maggie, it's okay. Whatever you're thinking, let's just talk about it," he prods.

I almost laugh again at how strange it is we can talk about things like this at all, let alone that he is specifically asking me to share what I'm concerned about.

So I look at him even with tears shining in my eyes and doubt written across my face. But I can't talk so I just shake my head.

"You survived. You lived through kidnapping, torture, exposure to anthrax. You did it. And Jose really is gone. He's not even in this hospital anymore, and the Zeta who released Jose from his hospital room is dead. He was shot by an officer trying to get out of the hospital. It's really over this time. You aren't in danger," he wants me to believe him, wants me to understand. I desperately crave that, too, but it's so hard to believe this whole thing could ever truly end. However, I know he won't lie to me. Honesty is pouring off him. I feel the dread and panic begin to slowly subside.

I reach up and cover his cheek with my hand. I leave it there feeling the warmth on my fingers, my palm. He closes his eyes and leans into my hand slightly.

"Why are you here, then, if I'm safe?" I'm not accusing or testing, I just need to know, have to hear the reason.

He looks at me, my hand still on his cheek and covers my hand with his own. "You think I wanted to leave? There's nowhere else I'd rather be." He is so sincere and everything about him pulls me in.

"I heard you talking," I confess. "I don't know how long; it must have been hours, over the course of days. Every time you were talking to me, I could hear you."

A slight scarlet color dances across his cheeks. "I meant everything I said," he explains.

"Everything?" I feel my heart rate increase, feel it pounding in my chest. He nods.

"Say it again," I ask him. I bite my bottom lip wondering if I made the right choice in asking this. He leans closer, is about a foot away.

"I said I think I'm falling for you. That I hope you feel the same." I feel like he's looking into me, seeing everything I am. "Then I said when you woke up I'd ask you. So...?"

I'm looking at the man in front of me. The man who, time and time again, has shown me how kind he is. He has risked his life for mine many times over, and is the hardest worker I know. He is brave, caring, patient, dedicated. He makes me laugh, isn't afraid anymore when I cry, and he knows me well enough to know what scares me and what I need at any given moment. I can't imagine not having him here with me.

I must think too long because he leans back in his chair, pulling away from my hand.

"Come back here. Look at me," I say with a smile. He looks at me for a moment. Just when he starts to give in and come closer again, the doctor returns to my room. I groan in annoyance at how terrible his timing is which makes the doctor think I'm in serious pain. He's asking me how I'm doing, how I feel, what my pain level is. I answer as quickly as I can hoping he'll leave us alone again. I soon realize the doctor has other plans.

"Since you are feeling so well, let's see if we can get you up and standing for a minute or two." I just stare at him in surprise as he moves around the room getting things ready.

"Agent, I could use your help," he says to OA. My partner stands and comes around the bed to where the doctor is waiting.

"I assume you won't use a walker, yes? So you will need us to support you at first. Are you ready, Agent Bell?"

He helps me sit up slowly. He asks how my head feels and when I give the correct answer, he tells me to swing my feet over the side of the bed. I move slowly, my body protesting each movement, but loving it just the same. Then OA grabs one arm and the doctor grabs the other, careful for my IV. I stand for the first time in about a week. My ribs scream at me, my shoulders are in agony at the weight they are supporting as I lean onto the two men next to me.

But dang, does it feel good. The doctor must read my face because he asks for the level of pain.

"Five... and a half," I say determined to do more.

"So, seven or eight? Maybe higher?" OA says knowing me well. I just roll my eyes and scoff.

"Well, we have plenty of time. There's no need to rush," the doctor tells me. "Let's get you back into bed."

"Can I just stay like this for another minute or two?" I ask, desperate to stay standing. Despite the pain it really does feel good to use my muscles, to stretch like this.

"Sure, another minute or two should be fine. I have another patient to check on. You have her, Agent?"

OA nods to the doctor who then let's go of my arm and leaves the room. Suddenly I realize how close OA is and the butterflies return.

I somewhat turn and somewhat stumble as I try to face him. He catches my other arm in his and keeps me balanced.

"Now that I've got you where I want you..." I joke, but he doesn't smile much. I decide to try again anyway. "Okay. Well, like I was saying earlier," I tell him looking at him pointedly, "after you so rashly pulled away from me: Look at me."

"Maggie, it's fine. I don't know what I was think-"

"Oh shut up already," I say interrupting, teasing. "Now, say it again."

He looks at me carefully trying to gauge my intentions. Sighing, he rolls his eyes and says, "I don't want to." He's partially joking back now, giving me a hard time, and partially just being stubborn. I just narrow my eyes a bit. "Again," I demand.

He continues to look at me like he can't decide what to do. I drop all pretenses, all signs of joking. "OA, please?" I ask softly.

He exhales slowly and relaxes. What I'm asking him to do isn't easy, but me asking in the first place isn't easy either. He finally repeats his confession.

"Mags, I really care about you. And even though it's a bit scary, I think I'm falling for you. Now that you're awake, now that I know you're going to be fine, I can ask you. How do you feel about that?"

I'm still being supported by his strong arms. Feeling him close like this, nearly wrapped in his arms, I know that if I don't tell him the truth, I'll regret it forever, that I'll regret not giving this a shot.

"Even now," I begin, "even though I'm getting better and will recover, even though the Zetas are no longer a threat to me, even though Jose is gone, I still feel the same."

He's looking at me, brow furrowed, eyes confused, not sure what exactly that means.

"I. Still. Need. You" I whisper. I'm smiling at him, biting the inside of my cheek like I do when I'm nervous, waiting for my words to sink in. Then he wraps his arms around me completely and I wrap my arms around his neck. He's holding me and I feel so complete, so whole, that I know I made the right choice. We will face whatever comes together.

He pulls away just enough to look at me. The light in his eyes is almost blinding. He says those same words I long to hear, the words that confirm he feels the same.

"Never stop."

Suddenly I can't handle my emotions or the way he is looking at me. I grab the back of his head and pull him closer. Our lips collide with more passion this time, and I feel my need for him only grow. Short of breath, we pull away. But he keeps me in his embrace. Minutes pass, maybe more, but I'm in no hurry. Neither is he.

Then I hear myself chuckle. I try to stifle it, but I can't. I laugh a little louder and OA pulls away to look at me confused again.

"Was that as good for you as it was for me, or...?" I ask him. He laughs, too, hearing me use his words and pulls me in again for another hug.

"Oh, yes," he says softly. "Oh, yes."

I don't know what tomorrow will bring, don't know where we go from here, but I know it will be okay. It has to be. And after all I've been through in the last week, I know that I can face anything. With OA by my side the whole time, I know he'll here with me, too. And while I'm not completely sure of the capacity of my words, they hold truth. I need OA. And, at least for now, he doesn't want my need for him to disappear. That's all either of us needs.

END~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for reading! I hope you loved it! -wisher93


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